The Beginning of the End
by AJ6
Summary: Lincon and Sarah have a heart to heart talk about Michael.
1. Chapter 1

The Beginning of the End

Lincoln Burrows wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his blood stained shirt and peered out from the third story window of an abandoned factory building he and Michael had taken refuge in. As he watched the street below, he saw nothing alarming, but could hear sirens in the distance and knew it was only a matter of time before feds caught up to them. They knew Lincoln and Michael were in the city and every uniform in the city was out looking for them.

Backing away from the window, Lincoln leaned against the wall. As emotional and physical exhaustion overcame him, he felt his knees start to buckle and he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. He placed his elbows on his knees, rested his head in his still shaking hands, and began to sob.

"Oh god. Please help me." He whispered as tears started to stream down his face. "Please help me."

Lincoln let out one more exasperated cry before wiping the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. This was no time to lose it. Not now. He needed to hold it together and be the big brother that Michael needed. The one he should have always been. The one, he unfortunately never was.

He ran his still shaking hands over his head before glancing across the room to where Michael lay in the darkness with Lincoln's crumpled up jacket beneath his head. It was all Lincoln could offer him to make him more comfortable. There was nothing he could do for the pain… nothing he could do for the bullet wound Michael was now suffering from. And that broke his heart.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. They had been so close. They had the money and were on their way out of city when it happened. The scene kept replaying itself over and over in Lincoln's mind like a bad movie.

They had stopped into a small market on the outskirts of the city for quick bite to eat and then they planned to hop one of the outbound freight trains headed south. Lincoln recalled how they had joked about being so sick of stale nachos, lukewarm hotdogs (which Michael had always felt the need to point out, had probably been sitting on that damn warming tray for hours) and fountain sodas. "I need real food!" Michael had complained with a chuckle.

"Soon Mickey." Lincoln whispered as they entered the market. "Once we get to Baja it will be nothing but Coronas and steak tips. I promise."

Michael smiled.

"Yeah…now I'm even hungrier Linc. Thanks a lot."

Lincoln laughed and playfully punched his brother in the arm before heading toward the back of the store to get himself some of the aforementioned nachos, while Michael headed for the packaged chips and snacks at the front of the store. It was pretty late at night, so the store was nearly empty.

Nearly… but not completely.

Michael hadn't noticed the gentleman standing at the counter. Or if he had, he wasn't paying much attention to him. As usual, Michael kept his head down as he walked and avoided eye contact with anyone. Usually, that worked, but not this time. As fate would have it, the man turned out to be an off duty police officer who immediately recognized Michael as he walked by.

Lincoln, of course, saw none of this from where he stood in the back of the store. But he heard it instantly as the man's booming voice echoed throughout the store.

"Don't move! Police!" the man hollored as he pulled his service revolver from a holster that had been hidden beneath his civilian jacket and pointed it at the back of Michael's head. "Don't you dare move Scofield!"

"No problem boss." Michael replied calmly, raising his hands in the air. He still had his back to the officer, and couldn't see the officer's hands shaking ever so slightly as he kept his gun raised and pointed

"Is anyone with you?" the officer hollored at him.

"No sir." Michael replied without hesitation, hoping that Lincoln could find another way out of the store.

"Did he come in with anyone?" the officer asked the frightened store clerk who was watching the whole situation unfold with a look of terror on his face.

"I…I don't know! I didn't see him come in. I…"

"Is there anyone else in the store?" the officer demanded.

In the back of the store, Lincoln looked up and instantly spotted the surveillance camera dangling from the ceiling.

"Shit!" he muttered to himself.

In the front, the store clerk instantly turned his attention to the small black and white monitor on the counter behind him. The screen was divided into four smaller screens, each showing different areas of the store.

"Turn around. Slowly." The officer instructed Michael. As Michael complied, he heard the panicked voice of the store clerk inform the officer…

"There is a guy in the back! Near the microwaves!"

The officer stiffened, not taking his eyes off Michael. With his gun still aimed squarely at Michael, he backpedaled a few steps so he could look down the center aisle.

"Burrows! I know you're in here! Come out where I can see you!"

Lincoln felt his stomach lurch, he knew this was going to turn out badly. But he did as he was instructed and stepped out from behind one of the racks.

"Are you armed?" The officer hollored at him.

"No sir." Lincoln replied.

"Is your brother armed?" he asked turning his head briefly to address Michael then back to watch Lincoln.

"No." Michael confirmed. Of course, he thought it kind of strange the officer would even ask him. Did this officer really think if Lincoln were going to lie, he would tell him the truth?

"Alright Burrow's…"the officer began, waving a hand at Lincoln. "Walk towards me. Nice and slow."

Lincoln did as he was told and slowly started to make his way up the aisle. His mind racing as he did so. _It's over._ He thought to himself. After all Michael had been through…after all he had done to save Lincoln…it had come to this. They were on there way back to jail. Michael would be going back to jail. He didn't even want to think about it.

He had made his way about halfway up the aisle when there was a commotion at the front of the store. Someone had entered…there was a crash…and before Lincoln knew what was happening, he saw the officer swing his attention back toward Michael and fire his weapon. There was another crash and although he couldn't see it…Lincoln knew Michael was down.

"No!" Lincoln cried out and began charging down the aisle.

The officer quickly turned back toward Lincoln and raised his gun to fire again.

Lincoln threw himself to the ground just as the officer discharged his weapon for the second time. The bullet went whizzing over head as Lincoln slid across the tile floor, knocking the officer down like a bowling pin.

As the two struggled on the floor for the officer's gun, Michael tried desperately to get himself up so he could help his brother. He had been hit in the abdomen and it hurt like hell. But he knew he had to get up and do something before someone else got hurt.

As he struggled to get up, he realized the frightened store clerk had taken refuge behind the counter and was frantically calling for help.

"Yes! I need help! Those Fox River convicts are in my store! They're shooting!" he heard the man cry.

_Well that's a lie! _Michael thought to himself as he continued to struggle. _We didn't shoot anyone! _

Meanwhile, Lincoln continued to struggle with the officer on the ground. He managed to use his weight and pin the man down, but the officer still had still managed to grab the gun. Using all his strength Lincoln held the officer's other arm down with one had as he reached out and grabbed the hand that held the gun. He slammed the officer's hand to ground, causing him to cry out in pain and release his grip on the gun. Lincoln quickly grabbed it and using the but end of the gun, he slammed the officer in the face, knocking him out.

"Oh god!" the store clerk cried out in desperation. "He has the gun!"

Lincoln quickly stood up and whipped around to face the store clerk.

"Shut up and put the phone down!" Lincoln yelled at the man. His expression was filled with rage and fear and hands shook wildly as he pointed the gun squarely at the man's head.

"Lincoln! No!" Michael yelled at him. He had finally managed to get to his feet and staggered towards his brother.

As loudly as Michael had yelled, it didn't appear Lincoln had even heard him. He kept the gun raised as he stared the store clerk down. His teeth clenched in anger… sweat dripping from his brow.

"LINCOLN!" Michael yelled again and this time, Lincoln turned.

When he saw Michael staggering toward him, Lincoln forgot all about the store clerk. His expression instantly turned to one of concern as he reached out to his brother, managing to catch him just as Michael started to stumble.

"Michael?"

"Lincoln, come on. We gotta get out of here."

Lincoln hoisted Michael to his feet and looked down at the wound Michael was now clutching with both hands.

"Oh God Michael."

"Linc, I'm OK." Michael lied. "We gotta go. Now!"

Once again, Lincoln said nothing. His eyes were fixed on Michael's blood, that was now covering him.

"Lincoln!"

Lincoln shook his head as if doing so would make everything just go away.

"OK." Lincoln said, nodding his head. "Can you walk?"

"Forget about walking." Michael replied. "We gotta run! Come on!"

Michael and Lincoln ran for the door. They both knew the minute they left, the store clerk would be back on the phone. They had to move quickly.

They exited the store quickly, with Lincoln still clutching the officer's gun. When they got outside, Lincoln noticed a young man emerging from his car that was parked in front of the store. Before Michael could protest, Lincoln raised the gun again and ran toward the driver's side door.

"Out of the car!" he bellowed at the young man.

"Lincoln! No!" Michael yelled as he clutched his bleeding stomach. The pain was getting worse, as was the bleeding. He didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to stay on his feet. They needed to move.

Lincoln realized this as well. He knew Michael wouldn't make it far in his condition. They needed a car.

"Out of the car now!" he hollered again at the young man, emphasizing his demand by thrusting the gun toward the boys head.

"Okay man! Be cool!" the boy replied in a shakey voice as he started to exit the car. "Take it. Just…don't shoot. Alright?"

"Come on ! Come on! Move!" Lincoln demanded, grabbing the boy by his collar and pulling him from the car. The boy fell to the ground and quickly rolled to his back. He then backpedaled himself with his hands and feet away from the car. Never taking his eyes off Lincoln.

"Michael, get in!" Lincoln ordered his brother.

"Lincoln. We can't…" Michael began to protest before Lincoln cut him off.

"Mikey! The cops are on their way! Get in the fuckin' car!"

Michael gave the driver a sympathetic look before reluctantly opening the passenger door and climbing into the front seat. He dropped into the seat and quickly slammed the door. The motion sent a surge of pain throughout his body and he cried out in agony. Lincoln, who had already climbed into the driver's side and has started the vehicle, didn't even appear to notice as he quickly peeled away from the curb and sped off.

As he sped down the road, weaving in and out of traffic, Lincoln turned his attention to Michael.

"Let me see," he said, reaching across and pulling back Michael's jacket to reveal the wound.

"Lincoln, watch the road!" Michael cried out as a car pulled out in front of them.

"Shit!" Lincoln responded as he whipped the car to the right to avoid a collision.

"You need to slow down." Michael gasped between painful breaths.

"You're bleeding like crazy Mike. Put your hand on it!" Lincoln said, ignoring Michael's suggestion.

"Lincoln…" Michael began as he stared ahead at the traffic before them.

"You gotta do something to stop that bleeding." Lincoln said.

"Lincoln…" Michael tried again to get his brother's attention.

"Put pressure on it Michael!" Lincoln hollered at him.

"Lincoln!" Michael bellowed, realizing the only way to get his brother's attention was to get angry.

"WHAT?" Lincoln hollored back.

Michael took a breath. It hurt to yell. He really didn't want to do it again.

"We're going the wrong way." He said calmly.

"What?" Lincoln asked, clearly flustered.

"We are going the wrong way." Michael repeated. "We want to be going out of the city…not into it."

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

The Beginning of the End – Part 2

"Fuck! Fuck!" Lincoln bellowed, pounding the steering wheel with his palm as the car sped down the busy city street.

"Lincoln, calm down." Michael pleaded and brought his shaking, bloodied hands to his head. "I can't think with you freakin' out like that!"

Lincoln looked over at his brother-the look on his face a combination of guilt and sympathy.

"This isn't happening" he muttered almost inaudibly before adding, "It wasn't suppose to be like this Mikey. We were so close!"

"I know. I know. I'm sorry." Michael groaned, resting his head against the window.

"No!" Lincoln barked at him. His reaction prompted Michael jump and once again, Lincoln felt guilty. He hadn't meant to raise his voice.

"You listen to me." Lincoln said, lowering his voice. "You cut that shit out. OK? None of this is your fault. Do you hear me Michael? None of it."

"I moved." Michael replied softly.

"What?"

"Back in the store…" Michael began, tugging at his blood soaked shirt aimlessly. "…that cop…those kids came in... They startled me. I must have moved. I dunno."

"Screw that." Lincoln replied shaking his head. "That cop was way too jumpy."

"Yeah but…" Michael began.

"You were unarmed Michael!" Lincoln said, raising his voice again.

"He didn't know that Linc!"

"What? You're defending him now?" Lincoln asked incredulously.

"So what if I am?" Michael shot back defensively.

"He fuckin' shot you Michael!"

"So! I would've shot me too!" Michael replied and threw his head back in frustration and sighed.

"Oh enough!" Lincoln groaned. "I'm not going to fight with you Michael. Not now."

Michael sighed and brought his hands to his head again.

"Fuck!" Lincoln said again, slowing the car down as the traffic ahead of him began to pile up. "What the hell is with all this late night traffic?"

"It's Friday night in the city. What did you expect?" Michael reminded him.

"We gotta get the hell off this road." Lincoln said, signaling to turn at the next intersection. No sooner did he do so, then there was horn blast from behind them.

"One way! One way!" Michael said, raising his voice.

"Alright! Alright! I see it." Lincoln replied.

"Do you hear that?" Michael said, straightening up in his seat.

"What?" Lincoln asked nervously.

"Quiet!" Michael ordered, as he rolled down his window. Lincoln did the same. Now they could both hear it clearly.

"Sirens." Michael said.

"Shit!" Lincoln muttered as he twisted around to glance out the back of the car. "Which direction are they coming from?"

"I can't tell." Michael replied. "But they're definitely getting closer.

"We gotta get off this main road." Linoln said again as the traffic started to move.

"No." Michael replied. "We have to get rid of this car."

"What?"

"We have to Linc." Michael insisted.

"Michael, you've been shot. How far do you think we're going to get on foot?" Lincoln asked.

"How far do you think we are going to get with every cop in the city looking for this _stolen_ car. We have to dump it."

Lincoln grimaced angrily as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He knew Michael was right, but he had no idea how he was going to get an injured Michael out of the city on foot.

"Fine." He said, turning his attention back to Michael. "Where?"

Michael surveyed the street ahead of them before finally point ahead and to the right.

"There. Up on the right. The parking garage. Do you see it?"

"Yeah." Lincoln replied, as he signaled to move into the right hand lane. "Come on! Come on! Let me in." he said as glanced in the rearview mirror at the cars behind him on the right.

He managed to get the car over just before the parking garage entrance. Luckily, the parking attendant was busy taking money from an exiting vehicle and Lincoln was able to grab a ticket and make it through the gate without being noticed.

"Go to an upper level." Michael instructed.

"I know." Lincoln replied, sounding annoyed. "I'm not an idiot Michael."

Lincoln drove the car up to the third level and parked. They were surprised to see the level was pretty full and there was a small crowd of college age kids piling out of some cars, getting ready to make their way down to the street.

"Great." Lincoln groaned and then turned to Michael. "We'll wait till they clear out. Then we'll get out of here."

Michael nodded and then rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He was getting weaker from the blood loss and he was now visibly pale. Lincoln wished the kids would hurry up and clear out, but they were definitely taking their own sweet time.

"Yo man! Where are you?" One of the young men asked, cell phone to his ear, as he paced in front his car. "We're at the A Street parking garage. We'll be there in a few."

"Lexie! Let's go!" Another boy yelled at a young girl still seated in the car. "Get off the damn cell phone! He ain't coming girl!"

"This is just great." Lincoln groaned again and then turned to face Michael. "Hey Mike. You gotta zip your jacket up kid. We can't walk the street with you looking like that."

Michael opened his eyes and looked down. The entire front of his shirt was now saturated with his blood. He nodded and attempted to zip that jacket, but his hands were trembling uncontrollably and he just couldn't manage it.

"It's OK. I got it." Lincoln said. Reaching across, he began fumbling with the zipper, but his hands weren't much steadier than Michael's and he too was having a tough time.

Meanwhile, one of the young men across the way, looked over and saw Lincoln lean across as Michael rested his head back once again and closed his eyes. The boy couldn't see what Lincoln was doing. All he knew was that Lincoln was hunched over and his hands appeared to be in Michael's lap. The boy laughed in disbelief and smacked one of his friends on the arm to get his attention.

"Check it out man!"

The other boy glanced over and started laughing as well.

"Oh no they aren't!"

"Yeah. I think they are!" the first boy replied, busting up even more! "Hey! Get a room fellas! No one wants to see that!"

Michael's opened his eyes quickly at the sound of the boy's voice and shoved Lincoln away, pulling his jacket tightly across his chest. Lincoln, who was oblivious to the crowd of kids now staring at them fell back into his seat, clearly annoyed.

"Michael! What the hell?"

"Jesus Lincoln!" Michael replied, thrusting his hand toward the group of gawkers.

"What the hell are they looking at?" Lincoln wondered out loud, still oblivious.

"Oh, I don't know." Michael replied sarcastically. "Maybe you all up in my lap."

"Oh, you have got to be frickin' kidding me!" Lincoln said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey! It's cool man." The boy hollored at them as his girlfriend began dragging him toward the elevator with the rest of their group. "We're liberals!"

"Yeah! Keep walking punk!" Lincoln bellowed back at him.

"Lincoln." Michael admonished him with a stern glare and the shaking of his head.

Lincoln waited until the kids got into the elevator and the doors closed behind them before turning back to Michael. He reached over once more and finally managed to get the jacket zipped.

"OK? You ready?" he asked his younger brother. "We gotta go."

Michael nodded and the two opened their doors and started to exit the vehicle.

Once outside the car, Michael began to stagger off toward the elevators. Lincoln quickly raced over to him and grabbed him by the arm.

"No Michael. Not that way!"

Michael lost his balance when Lincoln grabbed him and started to sway on his feet. He reached an arm out to steady himself and Lincoln quickly caught him before he toppled over.

"Hey, you OK?"

"Not really." Michael stated matter of factly.

"We can't take the elevator Michael. That will only take us back to the main street. There are stairs on the other side. Can you make it?"

"I don't really have a choice now. Do I?" Michael replied.

"Come on." Lincoln said, throwing Michael's arm over his shoulder. "We have to hurry."

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

The Beginning of the End – Part 3

"Oh god. Please help me." Lincoln whispered, tears streaming down his face as he sat on the floor of the abandoned warehouse he and Michael had taken refuge in. "Please help me."

Lincoln let out one more exasperated cry before wiping the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. This was no time to lose it. Not now. He needed to hold it together and be the big brother that Michael needed. The one he should have always been. The one, he unfortunately never was.

He ran his still shaking hands over his head before glancing across the room to where Michael lay in the darkness with Lincoln's crumpled up jacket beneath his head. It was all Lincoln could offer him to make him more comfortable. There was nothing he could do for the pain… nothing he could do for the bullet wound Michael was now suffering from. And that broke his heart.

Michael hadn't made it very far during their dash from the parking garage. Maybe a few city blocks and Lincoln had to drag him along most of the way. Luckily, it _was_ Friday night and most people they passed just assumed Michael was in a drunken stupor. After all, it's not unusually to see young men or women for that matter being dragged back to their homes after a night of heavy partying.

Fortunately, Michael had stayed on his feet until Lincoln was able to break open the door of the abandoned factory and drag him inside. Once inside, however, Michael just couldn't take any more and collapsed to the ground, exhausted and weak.

Lincoln carried him up the three flights of stairs and it was a long and difficult climb. Every muscle in his body protested as he dragged himself and his brother up the stairs, talking with Michael all the while. _Geez Michael, when did you get so heavy_? He had joked. _No more nachos for you my friend_. Michael of course didn't answer, but Lincoln kept it up anyway, hoping that even if Michael wasn't responding, he could hear his voice, and it would somehow comfort him.

Looking back on it, Lincoln wasn't really sure why he felt it necessary or any safer to go upstairs rather than remain on the ground floor. After all, if they needed to get out quickly, the third floor probably wasn't the best place to be. But what was done was done and Lincoln decided it was best not to dwell on it. He needed to figure out how to help Michael. He was getting weaker by the minute and Lincoln knew he had to something quickly or risk losing his little brother forever, but he didn't have many options. There was only one he could think of and it wasn't very appealing

"Linc."

Michael's faint whisper caught Lincoln's attention and he immediately rushed to his little brother's side. Michael lay on his side, with Lincoln's jacket under his head. He had his arms wrapped around himself tightly as he shook uncontrollably.

"Yeah Michael. What's up?" He asked as he knelt down next to him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder to comfort him

"I'm co…cold." Michael managed to stammer as he looked up at his brother through half open eyes.

Lincoln's heart was breaking and he had to fight to hold back his tears. The room was far from cold. In fact, Lincoln was sweating bullets. He wasn't a doctor but he knew that Michael was losing too much blood. He was dying right before Lincoln's eyes and he felt terrified and helpless.

"OK. C'mere." He said, reaching out to him.

As gently as he could, he slid his arm underneath Michael and raised him up enough so that he could slide between his brother and the wall. He then sat down and rested Michael back against him so that his head was just beneath his chin and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

"There." Lincoln said, using his hands to rub Michael's arm in the hope that the friction would warm him. "Is that better?"

"Yeah." Michael nodded, allowing himself to relax in his brother's arms. He actually wasn't any warmer, but he felt better in Lincoln's arms. He felt safe.

"I'm going to get us out of this Michael." Lincoln said, resting his cheek on the top of his brother's head. "You just gotta hold on a little bit longer. OK?

It was at that moment that Michael began to laugh. A strange reaction, Lincoln thought, given situation they found themselves in.

"What's so funny?" Lincoln asked quizzically.

"Nothin'." Michael replied. "I was ju…just thinking."

"So what else is new?" Lincoln replied sarcastically before adding…"What are you thinking about?"

Michael smiled again.

"I was just thinking about the first award I ever got."

Lincoln furrowed his brow as he struggled to remember. Michael had gotten so many awards in his lifetime it was nearly impossible for him to remember the first.

"I was…I was the Red Light/Green Light champion of my kindergarten class." Michael reminded him.

"O…kay?" Lincoln replied, confused. "And that's funny how exactly?"

Michael shrugged.

"Well, I just think it's kinda funny that a guy who mastered the game of Red Light/ Green Light at five years old, can't understand the concept of 'Freeze! Don't Move!'" Michael said and began laughing again.

Lincoln frowned.

"That's not funny Michael."

"Oh, come on." Michael replied looking up at his brother. "It's a little funny."

"No." Lincoln insisted shaking his head. "No, it's not."

"Geez Linc." Michael teased. "You gotta lighten up. All this stress…it's not healthy."

Finally, Lincoln cracked a smile. He couldn't help it.

"Quit being a smart ass." Lincoln said gently nudging Michael's arm.

Michael smiled once more at his brother, before his eyelidsbegan to droop once again and he started to drift off.

Panicked, Lincoln shook him.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Michael, come on. Stay with me buddy."

"Lincoln, please." Michael replied, his eyes still shut. "I'm tired."

"I know. I know." Lincoln said, pressing his lips to the top of Michael's head. "But I need you to listen to me. OK?"

Michael groaned weakly in protest.

"Michael? Are you listening?" Lincoln asked, raising his voice.

"Yes." Michael replied, sounding a bit annoyed.

"OK good." Lincoln replied. "Listen…I have to leave you Michael."

That got Michael's attention and he stiffened in Lincoln's arms, his eyes darting open.

"What?"

"Just for a few minutes. OK? I promise you I'll be back."

"No!" Michael swallowed hard, shaking his head furiously.

"Michael…"

"You can't…."

"Michael, I have to!" Lincoln insisted. "You're bleeding too badly. I gotta to get help."

"Lincoln, there are cops all over the city looking for us. They'll catch you."

"I know." Lincoln replied. "I know. But we don't have a choice Michael. I'm not going to let you die."

Lincoln started to move Michael so that he could get up, but Michael grasped onto his arm tightly and squeezed with all the strength he had left.

"Lincoln…"

"Mike! Come on!" Lincoln said, trying to release himself from his brother's grip. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of going back to prison, but if meant Michael would live, he was going to do it . No matter how much his brother protested.

"Look…" Lincoln began, trying to remain calm. "It's gonna be OK. Veronica has so much evidence now…"

"Innocent or not. We escaped from a maximum security Prison Linc." Michael reminded him. "And to make matter's worse, I took murderers and a pedophile with us."

"I know but…" Lincoln began.

"But nothing Linc! I can't go back there for another ten years. I can't!

The desperation and fear in his brother's voice, stopped Lincoln cold. He was so wrapped up in wanting to get help for Michael, he hadn't really thought about the full ramifications of his actions. Yes, Michael would be alive…but he'd be back in prison. They both would. Of course, Lincoln wasn't worried about himself. The other cons pretty much left him alone and those that didn't he could handle. But Michael was a different story.

Lincoln had spent many sleepless nights in Fox River worrying about Michael. In the yard during the day, it wasn't uncommon for him to overhear conversations among other cons as he walked along the fence, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother. And more often then he cared to remember, those conversations had to do with Michael and what they wanted to do to him. Of course, very few cons new that "Linc the Sink" was related to that "New Fish" in gen pop., so they spoke openly and were very graphic in their detail. The things he heard made his blood boil and there were times when Lincoln wanted to reach through the fence and rip their throats out. But he knew that would only make things worse for Michael.

After overhearing those conversations, he found himself watching Michael very closely whenever they were together in PI. Looking for a sign…something in Michael's eyes…anything that would indicate that something was wrong. That someone had gotten to him. But Michael was very good at keeping his emotions in check, so Lincoln was usually left to wonder and worry.

Now, as he held Michael in his arms, and could feel him trembling with fear at the thought of going back there, he began to wonder again, just what had Michael had to endure in prison. And the images that were now flooding his imagination were enough to make him sick.

"I can't do it again Linc. I just…I can't." Michael's words interrupted Lincoln's thoughts.

"Michael…"Lincoln replied, tears now streaming down his cheeks. "You'll die if I don't do this."

"I'm gonna die anyway." Michael shot back.

"Don't say that." Lincoln said angrily.

"I'm just telling you the truth Lincoln. Here or there… I am a dead man."

"No!" Lincoln insisted. "They can protect you! We can get Veronica to petition…"

"Lincoln! You're not listening to me!" Michael was getting angry now. "I'm trying to tell you…if they send me back there… I'm not going to make it. One way or the other, I _will_ die."

Lincoln shook his head incredulously.

"What are you saying Michael?"

It sounded to Lincoln like Michael was threatening to kill himself. But he didn't want to believe Michael would do that. He didn't want to believe that after all they had been through, Michael would just give up.

"Just let me go Lincoln." Michael begged, ignoring Lincoln's question. "I'm not afraid to die. Not here. Not with you."

"No" Lincoln replied shaking his head furiously. "No, I won't do that. I can't do that."

"Yes you can Linc! You can! It's OK."

Lincoln wrapped his arms around Michael tighter as he began sobbing uncontrollably. He couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with his brother.

"I don't want to die alone Lincoln." Michael continued, choking on his own tears. "And I'll be alone in Prison. I'll be alone and I'll be afraid. I'm not afraid with you here. Just wait a little longer."

"Michael…" was all that Lincoln could manage between sobs.

"Please Linc. Please." Michael replied, wrapping his arms around his brothers.

Lincoln continued to sob as he tightened his grip on Michael and kissed the back of his head once again. He knew what he had to do. But it broke his heart to have to do it.

"I'm sorry Michael. I'm so sorry."

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

The Beginning of the End – Part 4

"Is this some kind of joke?" The 911 operator asked hesitantly.

"Lady…does it sound like I'm fuckin' laughing!" Lincoln snapped at her as he held the pay phone receiver to his ear with one hand and gripped the side of the phone box with the other.

There was a brief silence before Lincoln heard the woman address a co-worker.

"I have a man on the phone who claims he's Lincoln Burrows." She said.

"Is it joke?" Lincoln heard a male voice in the background ask, sounding skeptical.

"I don't think so." The operator replied.

"This is no joke!" Lincoln bellowed into the phone. "Listen to me! You need to get someone over here. OK? My brother is dying."

Lincoln couldn't hear the police sirens anymore. He had hoped he would just be able to flag an officer down when he got back down to the street. But oddly enough, there were none around. Now he had to deal with these idiots on the phone and he was losing his patience.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Sir…I…"the operator stammered. "One moment…"

"You've got to be frickin' kidding me." Lincoln muttered to himself. He really hadn't anticipated it being this difficult to turn himself in.

"Try to get as much information from him as you can. I'm going to get the PD on another line." The man instructed the operator.

_Finally!_ Lincoln thought to himself.

"Sir?" the operator's voice was back on the line.

"Yes!" Lincoln replied.

"Sir, we have your location…Is your brother with you now?"

"No." Lincoln replied.

"OK. Where's he at?"

"Um…" Lincoln began, bringing his shaking hand to his forehead. "He's uh…I left him in an abandoned warehouse a couple of blocks from here."

Lincoln turned back in the direction from which he came. The street was dark and deserted.

"Please…" Lincoln begged. "You gotta hurry. He's bleeding to death."

"Sir, we are going to get somewhere there just as soon as we can." Her voice was surprisingly calm and sympathetic. "But there are a lot of abandoned buildings in that area. I need you to be a little more specific."

"Um…" Lincoln stammered as he paced back in forth in front of the phone, trying to remember. "Yeah…there was a City Liquors on the corner right across the street."

"Pull up the address for City Liquors." The woman was talking again to her co-worker. "The brother is supposedly in the abandoned warehouse across the street."

"Third floor!" Lincoln bellowed again into the phone.

"Third floor." The operator repeated.

"Find out if he's armed." The co-worker instructed.

"No!" Lincoln replied frantically before the operator even had a chance to ask. "He's not armed. OK? He has nothing. TELL THEM he has nothing!"

Lincoln's heart began to pound and his hands began to shake at the thought of them barreling in on Michael with their guns blazing.

"Calm down sir." The operator instructed. "We will tell them."

Lincoln could hear sirens now. He couldn't tell which direction they were coming from, but he had never been so happy to hear police sirens in all his life.

"I can hear the sirens now." Lincoln informed the operator.

"Mr. Burrows are _you_ armed?" the operator asked.

Lincoln brought his hand to the waistband of his pants where he had stuffed the stolen police revolver.

"Yeah." Lincoln answered honestly.

"You are?"

"Yes. I have a gun." He informed her. "But I haven't used it and I don't intend to. Please….I just want to help my brother. Tell them I just want them to help my brother."

"OK…Mr. Burrows. I need you to listen to me very carefully. OK? Do you see the patrol cars yet?"

"No." Lincoln replied. "But they're getting closer. I can hear them."

"OK." The woman's voice remained calm. "What I need you to do, is take the gun, and place it on the ground in back of you. Can you do that?"

"Yes…Yes." Lincoln replied, dropping the gun to the ground. "It's done. It's on the ground."

As the sirens grew louder, Lincoln turned his attention in the direction of the sound and saw several police cars pull out onto the street and race toward him.

"They're here!" he cried into the phone-panicked.

Before the operator could respond, two of the cruisers screeched to a halt before him and several officers jumped from the vehicles with guns drawn. Lincoln dropped the phone and raised is arms.

"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" the officers shouted at him, as they shielded themselves behind the cars.

At that same moment, Lincoln watched as two other cruisers sped past him in the direction of the warehouse where he left Michael. Relief washed over him as he watched the cruisers disappear around the corner. It was only when they were out of sight did he finally realized that the officers in front of him were still hollering and he should probably do what they say or risk being shot himself.

Lincoln laid himself on the ground, being sure to position himself with his hands as far from the gun as possible. An officer rushed forward and picked up the discarded revolver, while another knelt down and began to grab for Lincoln's arms.

"Please!" Lincoln cried. "You have to help my brother."

"Relax buddy. It's over." The officer cuffing him said with a sympathetic tone. "It's all over."

Much to Lincoln's surprise, he was not taken directly to the local jail as he anticipated. Instead, the officer transporting him drove to the warehouse, which by this time was surrounded by police cruisers and an ambulance.

"Michael." Lincoln said, edging forward in his seat as the car came to halt.

"Wait here." The officer instructed as he opened his door and exited the vehicle.

"Like I'm going anywhere." Lincoln muttered sarcastically.

Lincoln anxiously watched as the officer walked over and began talking with several officers who were standing around outside the building. The windows were rolled up, so he couldn't hear what they were saying but they kept looking over at Lincoln, gesturing toward the warehouse, and shaking their heads.

Lincoln's heart was racing and sweat began to pour down his face. _Where was Michael? Was he OK? Why were they all just standing around?_

His questions were answered when he saw yet another officer race from inside the warehouse and rush to open the ambulance doors. The Paramedics emerged next, cautiously transporting Michael on a stretcher.

"MICHAEL!" Lincoln screamed.

The closed windows muffled his cries, but the officers standing nearby could still hear Lincoln's anguished cry and turned in his direction.

"Hey! Open the door!" Lincoln pleaded and when they didn't move, he did the only thing he could with his arms cuffed behind his back. He slammed his head as hard as he could into the window.

"Michael!" he hollored, banging his head again and again.

Realizing Lincoln wasn't going to stop and could potentially hurt himself, an officer rushed to the car and opened the door.

"Hey! Hey! Calm down!" the officer barked at him.

"Please!" Lincoln begged, as he tried to focus his now blurry vision. "Please! You gotta let me talk to my brother before they take him away."

"That's not possible." The officer replied, shaking his head. "You're brother is in bad shape. They have to…"

"No! Listen to me!" Lincoln barked back. "You don't understand. He didn't want this! He's going to be angry!" Lincoln was crying now. Something he normally wouldn't do in front of the police or anyone but Michael for that matter, but he couldn't help it. He knew there was a good chance his brother would die and he couldn't bear the thought of Michael dying thinking Lincoln betrayed him.

"Please!" Lincoln tried again. "If my brother's going to die…I have to talk to him. I have to make him understand."

The officer looked genuinely sympathetic as he looked at Lincoln and then over at the ambulance. They had finished loading Michael into the back and were now closing the doors.

"I'm sorry." The officer stated. "But if there's any chance of you're brother surviving this…we have to let them go now."


	5. Chapter 5

The Beginning of the End – Part 4

Fernando Sucre jolted upright in his bunk back at Fox River Penitentiary. It was early. He wasn't sure what time exactly, but it was early, and he was annoyed. Something had gotten the prisoners of cell block A riled up and they were creating quite a racket.

"What the…" he mumbled to himself as he got up from his bunk and approached the bars, which were still closed.

Looking out, he could see and hear the cons in the tiers around him, as they rattled the bars of their cells, and hollered at the top of their lungs. Toilet paper and other miscellaneous trash flew from the cells as angry COs walked the tiers, slamming bars with their batons, and barking orders as they attempted to quiet the rowdy cons.

"What the hell is going on?" Sucre wondered to himself out loud.

"I thought you'd never wake up." A voice came from behind him. "You're missing the party."

Sucre turned to face his new cell mate, who was hanging off the top bunk, grinning at him like a cheshire cat.

"What the hell are you babbling about." Sucre asked him, clearly annoyed.

"You haven't heard? Your breakout buddies…they've been busted." The con informed him, flashing a wicked smile before settling back down on his bunk.

"Scoffield and Burrows?" Sucre asked, sounding surprised.

"They're the only ones left." His cellmate replied, as if that was the stupidest question in the world. " Or, shall I say _were_ the only ones left."

"I can't believe this!" Sucre said as he began pacing back in forth in front of the bunks anxiously. It had been two and a half weeks since he had been apprehended and returned to Fox River and in that time, Sucre had come to terms with his fate. But he had hoped at least Michael and Lincoln would make it.

"Believe it." His cellmate replied. "I hear the COs are planning a welcome home party for Linc the Sink as we speak."

"Lincoln?" Sucre had stopped pacing and turned to face the con. "What about Michael?"

The con smiled again and leaned forward off his bunk so that he was face to face with Sucre.

"Shot."

Sucre's jaw dropped and he felt as though he had been punched in the stomach.

"Shot? Are…Are you sure?"

"Positive." The con replied and plopped back down onto his bunk again.

"Is he…Is he…" Sucre couldn't bring himself to say it. Michael couldn't be dead. So instead he asked. "Is he alright?"

"Not according to what I heard." The con said and rolled away from Sucre to face the wall.

"What the hell does_ that_ mean?" Sucre hollored at him, reaching out to grab his arm. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"Back off sugar!" the con barked back, jerking his arm from Sucre's grasp. "Or you won't live long enough to be reunited with the Sink! You hear me!"

Sucre immediately let go. As concerned as he was for his former cellie, he really didn't feel like getting his ass kicked. Instead, he went back to the to the front of his cell, hoping to get some information from the COs.

"Boss! Hey Boss!" he hollered, hoping one of them would reply.

"What's your problem Sucre?" One of the COs asked, approaching the cell.

"Is it true?" Sucre asked. "Have Burrows and Scoffied been caught."

"Yeah, it's true." The CO replied before turning away and hollering, "Hey! Shut the hell up before I give you cons something to really yell about!"

"Was Scoffied really shot? Is he OK? How did it happen?" Sucre continued to question.

"What the hell do I look like. CNN?" The CO fired back. "Get back in your bunk and shut up."

He started to walk away, but Sucre reached through the bars and grabbed his arm. The CO said nothing but glanced down at Sucre's hand before giving him a warning look.

"Sorry." Sucre said, releasing his grip. "Listen, I need to make a phone call."

His request was met with a chuckle from the officer who simply replied…

"Yeah right."

…and walked away.

Lincoln Burrows, dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit, hands and feet shackled, shuffled into the visitation room of the Utah prison. He was hoping to see Veronica, but was surprised when a heavy set, middle-aged man rose to greet him.

"Hello Lincoln. Please… have a seat." The man said, pointing to the chair across from him

"Who the hell are you?" Lincoln asked, as he stood in place in front of the door.

"My name is William Durst. I'll be representing you." The man replied.

Lincoln closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Look, I don't know who sent you. But Veronica Donovan is my lawyer. I've already called her."

"Please…have a seat." Durst instructed him again.

Lincoln opened his eyes and glared at the man. He didn't move an inch.

"OK fine. Have it your way." Durst replied and walked over to where Lincoln stood.

"Tell me Mr. Burrows, when was the last time you heard from Miss Donovan?"

"Why the fuck should I tell you that?" Lincoln asked. "I don't know who the hell you are."

Durst smiled and nodded.

"Fair enough. My name is William Durst and I represent the Law firm of Glazier and Ross" the man said, holding out a business card.

"That's the firm Veronica works for." Lincoln replied, taking the card.

"Very good!" Durst shot back sarcastically. "And they say your brother is the smart one."

"What the fuck…" Lincoln began before being cut off.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Durst apologized. "That was uncalled for. It's…been a very long day."

"Well maybe you should go home and take a nap then." Lincoln countered. "Because like I said. I don't need you. Veronica Donovan…"

"Veronica Donovan is missing!" Durst informed him in a frustrated tone.

"What are you talking about?" Lincoln asked, not believing it.

"Again, when was the last time you heard from Miss Donovan?"

When Lincoln once again didn't reply, Durst continued.

"Let me guess. A couple of weeks ago. Right?"

"How do you know that?" Lincoln asked, the panic now evident in his voice.

"Because that's the last time _we_ heard from her. She's been checking in with us periodically ever since she took your case. But no one has heard from her in about two weeks and we're worried."

Lincoln shook his head.

"She's probably just following some lead. She's been working to exonerate me and…"

"Oh please! Think about it Lincoln. Even if that _were_ true… Don't you think she'd be here right now. I mean…you've been captured. Your brother has been shot. You said you called her. Right?"

Lincoln said nothing. He simply stared at the ground and tried to process everything that was being said. _Had something happened to Veronica_? The thought was almost too much for Lincoln to bear. But what Durst said made sense. There was no way Veronica wouldn't come when he called and told her what had happened.

"Maybe she's just been held up somewhere. I'm sure she's on her way." Lincoln speculated.

Durst gave him a sympathetic look and decided against pointing out that Veronica would have at least called. Of course Lincoln already knew that. He was just holding onto false hope and who could really blame him.

"Fair enough." Durst replied. "If and when Miss Donovan shows up, I'll be more than happy to turn your case over to her. But in the meantime, you need my help right now so why don't you do yourself a favor and take it."

Lincoln sighed, but finally gave in and took a seat at the table.

"OK good." Durst said, taking his seat across from Lincoln. "Now, the first order of business is…"

"My brother." Lincoln said. "I have to see him."

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Durst informed him.

"Well, is he alright? Can I at least call him?"

Durst sighed. He had been warned of Lincoln's protective nature when it came to his brother and knew he had to approach this topic gently.

"Listen…I called the hospital as soon as I landed in Utah early this morning and your brother was still in surgery."

"But he's going to be alright?" Lincoln said hopefully.

"All they would tell me is that he is in critical condition. Now I'm sorry, but that's all I know. What we need to concentrate on now is your extradition hearing. It's been set for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! No! No way!" Lincoln said angrily.

"Lincoln, you had to have known they were going to want to send you back to Chicago."

Lincoln stared straight ahead as he remember the last conversation he had with Michael. _I don't want to die alone Lincoln. Please! _Michael had begged. How could leave Utah now with Michael alone in that hospital…possibly dying.

"I'm not going anywhere until I see my brother." Lincoln informed him.

"Lincoln…please." Durst began.

"We can fight it. Right? We can fight extradition?"

"Of course we can." Durst replied. "But I don't advise it. Even if you stay here in Utah…they are not going to let you see Michael. What you need to do is start cooperating. It will make things a lot easier for you and your brother."

"NO! I'm not leaving without Michael!" Lincoln insisted.

"Listen to me!" Durst hollered at him, losing his patience. "Public opinion of you has changed drastically since your escape and Miss Donovan started snooping around."

"What does that mean?" Lincoln asked.

Durst leaned forward across the table and got right in Lincoln's face.

"What it _means_ is that the people are starting to ask questions. It_ means_ that the public is not so convinced of your guilt anymore when it comes to the murder of Terrance Steadman. And it_ means_, you have to start playing nice or people are going to go right back to seeing you as the murderous 'Linc the Sink'."

Durst sat back down and folded his arms across his chest.

"It's your call Lincoln. We can fight extradition and tarnish your image once again _or_ we can start playing nice, go back to Chicago, and start working toward getting you and your brother out of this mess. What do you say?"

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

The Beginning of the End – Part 4

_FIVE YEARS LATER_

It was normally quiet at 5:00am on the long, narrow street leading up to Fox River Penitentiary. But on this particular morning, April 3rd 2011, English Ave was packed with news vans and reporters from all over the country.

Arriving nearly four hours earlier with her dedicated cameraman by her side, an ambitious young reporter from the local channel 5 news had managed to secure a prime position as close as she could get to the iron gated prison entrance. She was ready and anxious to begin her coverage of what would be the biggest story of her young career thus far.

"OK" she said, making a final adjustment to her mic and brushing back a wisp of blonde hair that had fallen into her face. "Are we ready?"

"Good to go." The cameraman answered with a wink and a smile.

"Alright then." She replied, smiling back. "Let's do this."

Hoisting the camera onto his shoulder, the cameraman began his familiar countdown.

"Here we go. You're live in _five, four, three, two_…."

The anxious reporter took one final deep breath as the cameraman pointed in her direction.

"Good morning." The reporter began in a calm, cool voice that effectively disguised the nervousness she was feeling. "My name is Dana Clement and I am standing here live outside of Fox River Penitentiary where approximately 5 hours from now, Lincoln Burrows will walk through these gates behind me, a_ free _man…"

Meanwhile, in a small, yet affluent Chicago suburb, Henry Pope sat at his kitchen table staring at the small TV that sat on the countertop and listened intently as the young reporter recapped the now infamous tale of Lincoln Burrows. A story he knew oh too well.

"…_Bringing to an end one of the most controversial and disturbing cases in Chicago history, if not the country. As you all know, Lincoln Burrows made international news five years ago when he, his brother, Michael Scofield, and six other convicts successfully escaped this prison in what has come to be considered one of the most elaborate and daring prison breaks in United States history…"_

Judith Pope picked up the remote from the counter on the far side of the room and quickly hit the power button. It was only when the TV abruptly shut off, did Henry look up and notice his wife standing there.

"Judy…sweetheart…what are you doing up so early?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." His wife replied, shuffling over to the counter to pour herself some coffee.

"I couldn't sleep." Pope replied honestly, raising his coffee mug and downing what was left of the now cold liquid. He placed the empty mug onto the table as Judy walked across the room with the coffee pot to offer him a refill.

"Thank you." He said as she poured the fresh coffee into his mug.

"Those reporters are still outside." She informed him, returning the coffee pot to the counter. "I think they've been there all night."

"I'm sure they have." Pope agreed. "And they'll probably stay there until I go say something to them."

"What will you say?" she asked him.

Pope shrugged.

"I have no idea."

Judy shuffled back over to the table and took a seat across from her husband. The two sat in silence for a moment before Judy finally spoke up.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Pope smiled at her, and then shook his head.

"There's nothing to talk about."

Judy sighed, wondering how to approach a topic that was still so obviously painful for her husband.

"You know Henry…" she began. "When you first told me about Will all those years ago… I was so angry."

Pope shuddered at the sound of his son's name. They hardly ever spoke of him. There was no reason. It was just too painful for them both.

"But I got over it." she continued. "And then I was hurt. And that lasted for a little while. And then I was just sad."

She looked up her husband and smiled at him lovingly. Pope could feel the tears brimming in his eyes and wondered to himself why she was bringing this up now. After all these years…

"I was sad, because I realized you had to deal with the guilt and the pain of your son's death all by yourself for so long. You were hurting so much and I was sad because I couldn't be there for you."

She reached across the table and took her husbands hand.

"Sweetheart, I want you to know. I'm here for you now. You can talk to me."

"Honestly Judy. I don't know why you're bringing this up." Pope replied in a shaky voice. "You want to talk about Will? Now?"

"No." Judy smiled again and squeezed his hand gently. "I want to talk about Michael."

"Michael? What …Why?"

"I know you cared about him Henry." Judy stated matter of factly. "But it's time to let him go. He's _not_ Will. And you are _not_ responsible for what happened to him."

Pope closed his eyes as he struggled to maintain control of his emotions. It had been five years but the pain of the betrayal and loss were still present.

"I just…I wanted to help him. I _could_ have helped him."

Judy shook her head.

"No, you couldn't have. He made his choice."

"He was desperate." Pope replied.

"Yes, he was." Judy conceded. "But he was also a grown man. He made his own bed and in the end, he had to lie in it. There was nothing you could have done."

"I _trusted_ him." Pope said, the anger and pain starting to boil within him again. "I trusted him and god help me I even…I even cared for him."

"I know." Judy replied..

Pope sighed and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh Judy…Why do I still let this kid get to me after all these years."

"Because you are decent and caring human being. You try to see the good in everyone you meet and that's why I love you. And that's why Michael cared about you too.

Pope looked up at his wife, his expression clearly indicating that he didn't agree with her last statement.

"Oh honey. You _know_ he did." Judy insisted.

Pope shook his head.

"Henry…Why is it so hard for you to admit that he cared?"

Pope thought about this for a moment. He thought long and hard until finally he had to admit what had been bothering him for years.

"Because to be honest, it's a loss less painful to just keep believing he didn't.

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

"Yard time cons! Line it up! The COs voice echoed throughout the tiers.

"Man." Lincoln groaned from the bottom bunk of his cell. "I will be so glad to never have to hear those words again."

"Yeah…I'll bet." His young cellmate, Marcus, replied glumly, hopping down from the top bunk.

The boy's mood didn't surprise Lincoln, but it certainly wasn't going to make saying goodbye any easier. As hard as he had tried not to, Lincoln had grown quite fond of the kid who, at twenty-one, was the same age as his son LJ.

Lincoln sighed and rolled out of his bunk.

"So I guess this is it." Marcus offered as he stared down at the floor and kicked at nothing with his foot.

"Yeah…I guess so." Lincoln agreed, tilting his head in an attempt to make eye contact with the boy.

"Listen…"Lincoln began again when Marcus remained silent. "You stay out of trouble. OK?"

Marcus smirked and finally looked up, making eye contact with Lincoln.

"You don't have to go lookin' for trouble in a joint like this. Trouble will find you. _You _taught me that. Remember?"

"You'll be fine." Lincoln replied, trying to sound convincing. The truth was, Lincoln was the only reason Marcus hadn't become another Tweener Apolskis and he knew it.

Lincoln may have been exonerated of the murder of Terrance Steadman, but inside these walls he was still "Linc the Sink". A fact on unlucky sex offender had learned the hard way.

It had taken just one comment. One comment that sent Lincoln into a rage that resulted in him being sent to the Shu for a week, the Sex offender being sent to the infirmary for three days, and ensured Marcus' safety for the remainder of Lincoln's time at Fox River.

_Whatcha lookin' at Pretty_

_"Pretty"_

…The one word Lincoln hoped he'd never hear again. At least not in the demeaning manner in which he had heard Theodore "T-Bag" Bagwell use it to address his brother Michael for so many months. So when the con used it to address Lincoln's young cellmate only a week after his arrival at Fox River…Lincoln snapped. It took three guards and a can of mace to subdue Lincoln Burrows that day. But no one ever messed with Marcus after that.

"Hey man. Just forget what I said." Marcus' voice interrupted Lincoln's thoughts. "You're right. I'll be fine."

Lincoln smiled at this scared, young kid who was now trying to comfort him.

"Look…I'm happy for you man." Marcus continued. "You're gonna get to be with your kid. Your family. You're gonna get to hold Veronica again. I know you're psyched about that!"

"Oh, you have no idea how psyched." Lincoln replied.

"Yeah. I do." Marcus said seriously. "And like I said…I'm happy for you."

Lincoln smiled again and reached out to hug the young man. It wasn't something he did often, or ever for that matter, but it felt right at this moment.

"Marcus."

Lincoln and the boy released their grip on one another and turned to find Lewis, one of the senior COs, standing at the entrance of their cell.

"Come on kid. It's yard time. Let's go."

"Alright. I'm comin' boss." Marcus replied before turning back to Lincoln. "Take care man. I'll see you soon."

"Yes you will." Lincoln agreed. "Six months kid. I'll be waitin' to hear from you."

"Six months." Marcus repeated, nodding his head.

Lincoln watched as Marcus exited the cell and disappeared from his sight.

Lewis kept an eye on the boy until he reached the guard standing at the end of the tier, then turned his attention to Lincoln. As a senior CO, Lewis was careful about getting too close with any of the cons and especially careful about showing any favoritism. Of course, he had his favorites. Those few cons he felt were decent guys who just made a mistake and were paying the price. Lincoln Burrows was definitely one of those guys. And now that they two were alone, Lewis felt comfortable expressing his genuine happiness for Lincoln's impending release.

"Linc! This is it man!" he said with a friendly smile.

"I know." Lincoln replied. "I thought this day would never come."

"Well, for what it's worth…I'm glad to have known you. I just wish it could've been under better circumstances."

"Thanks man. Same here." Lincoln replied, firmly shaking Lewis' hand.

"Well, are you ready to get this process started?"

"Yeah. Absolutely. But before we do. I need to ask you a favor Lewis." Lincoln said, his tone serious.

"What do you need Linc?"

Lincoln paused for a moment.

"Keep an eye on the kid for me. I mean…you know…don't make it obvious or anything. It's just…he's got six months left on his bid man. I'd hate to hear something…"

"Hey." Lewis interrupted him. "I'll do my best. I promise."

"Thanks." Lincoln replied.

"In fact, I have a new cellie already lined up for him." Lewis informed him.

"Is that a fact?" Lincoln said, the curiosity evident in his voice.

"Yeah. In fact…I think you might have heard of him. Goes by the name of Sucre."

Lincoln laughed.

"Lewis, you're the best, man."

"Well, I figured Sucre only has about six months left on his bid too so, what the hell. Besides, Sucre's been bugging the shit out of me to get him away from his current cellie, so it works out well for everyone."

"Well, I appreciate it."

"Not a problem."

"Well, now I think I'm ready to go." Lincoln said, clapping his hands together excitedly.

"Alright then. Let's go." Lewis replied and started to lead Lincoln out of the cell. The two had gotten only a few feet, when Lewis suddenly stopped. "Oh…one more thing Linc…"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to let you know…there are a lot of people outside. You know, reporters and shit."

"Yeah. I figured as much." Lincoln replied, looking down at the ground.

"We're going to try to keep them back as best we can. But…I mean… a _lot_ of people."

"It's OK." Lincoln replied sadly. "I understand.

Meanwhile, out in the yard, Fernando Sucre stood by the fence watching the throng of reporters and news vans that had congregated outside the prison gate. As he stood there, a witness to the media frenzy Lincoln's release was causing, he felt a hand slap him on the shoulder and turned to find his cellmate standing before him.

"Can you believe this shit?" the man asked and when Sucre didn't reply, he continued… "All this fuss over Lincoln Burrows!"

"I still can't believe it." Another con said, approaching Sucre and his cellmate. "Lincoln Burrows is actually gonna be a free man!"

Sucre rolled his eyes at the con.

"You really are dumber than you look. You know that?" he scoffed. Then, turning back to look at the mass of reporters again he concluded, "Lincoln Burrows will _never_ be free."


	8. Chapter 8

The Beginning of the End

"You know, you don't have to do this." Judith Hope reminded her husband as she straightened the collar on the tan golf shirt he had chosen to wear. "They will eventually go away."

"I know. But we can be rid of them a lot quicker if I do this." Henry replied, taking his wife's hands and staring at her lovingly. Words could not express the gratitude he felt for how she had stuck by him during the last five years and especially in these last few days. He only could hope, that she knew.

"I love you." She said with a reassuring smile.

"I know." He replied. "I love you too."

Having said that, Henry Pope took a deep, calming, breath and headed to the front door. Judith took her place beside him as Pope opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch to face the mass of reporters that had congregated in front of his yard.

The reporters had not been advised that the former warden of Fox River might be coming out to make a statement, so when Henry and his wife appeared on their porch, they all rushed forward with microphones and cameras ready.

"Henry! Henry!"

"Mr. Pope!"

"Warden! Warden! Look this way please!"

They all came at him at once…Photographers anxious for a picture; reporters with microphones and cassette recorders ready; and cameramen all vying for the perfect position to capture his comments on film. But with all the confusion and chaos, Henry Pope didn't know which way to look or who to address. Finally he raised his hands in an attempt to quiet them.

"Please!" Pope said shaking his hands in the air. "I will answer your questions, but one at a time. Please!"

"Henry…"one particularly aggressive reporter began as he pushed his way to the front and thrust his microphone in Pope's face. "Henry, what are your thoughts on Lincoln Burrow's impending release?"

There was an instant hush over the crowd as they all waited for Pope's response. It was of course, an obvious question and one that Pope had anticipated and prepared for.

"What happened to Lincoln Burrow's and his family years ago was unfortunate and unconscionable as you all know. But, having said that, Lincoln also made some unfortunate decisions as a result. And while I can understand his reasoning, I cannot condone his actions. The bottom line is, he broke the law. And he had to pay the price for that."

"And do you think he has?" one reporter asked.

"Do you think he deserves to be released today?" Another added.

Pope began, raising his voice to be heard. "I think he has served his time. My only hope for Mr. Burrows now is that he has let time serve him as well."

"What do you mean by that?" the question came from the back of the crowd.

"I mean that I hope Mr. Burrows walks away from this experience having learned something. And I hope he has used his time in prison to better himself."

"Do you think that's possible?" One reporter asked skeptically.

"I would not have worked in the prison system for as long as I had, if I did not believe that." Pope replied matter of factly.

"Sir, have you spoken with Lincoln Burrows since he was recaptured five years ago?"

"I have." Pope stated, hoping that would be the end of it.

"And how did that conversation go?" The reporter continued pressing.

"The conversation between Lincoln Burrows and myself was a private one. And the details of that conversation will remain private."

"Did you discuss Michael Scofield at all?"

Pope could feel the anger beginning to boil within him. What part of "private conversation" were these people not understanding?

"As I have already stated, that was a private conversation and I will not discuss it with you now. Next question."

"Henry, what are your feelings about Michael Scofield today?"

Judith Pope squeezed her husband's hand. While the question wasn't a surprising one, she knew it was a question her husband had been dreading.

"I have nothing to say about Michael Scofield." Pope informed them.

"But you had stated in the past you trusted him at one point…"one reporter began.

"Have you forgiven him for his betrayal?" Another reporter chimed in, beating the other to the punch.

"I have no comment on that." Pope said, the anger in his voice now evident.

"How do feel about what happened to him?"

It was obvious to Pope that these people were just not getting it so he decided to end this little press conference immediately.

"That will be all. I'm not going to answer any more questions and I would appreciate it if you would all get off my property now." he said tersely. Then, taking his wife's hand, he opened his front door and began to step inside.

The reporters became unruly again. Pushing, shoving and trying to get one last photo and statement from Pope before the door abruptly slammed in their faces.

Once safely inside their home, Pope sighed and embraced his wife.

"You did good honey." she reassured him.

"Thank you sweetheart." Pope replied, tightening his hold on her. "I just hope this is all over soon."

Meanwhile, back outside Fox River Penitentiary, Lincoln and LJ Burrows were quite literally prisoners in their own vehicle as reporters and photographers swarmed the SUV they were attempting to drive away in.

"Get the fuck off my car or I'm gonna run your ass down!" LJ hollered at the photographers now pressed against the front of the car as they attempted to get their money shots.

"LJ." Lincoln said, giving him a stern look.

"Well, what the fuck? This is ridiculous!" LJ complained, blasting the horn.

"I know…" Lincoln began and then reached across to pull LJ's hand off the horn so he could be heard. "I know, but I really don't want to have to start visiting _you_ in here so let's try not to kill anyone. OK?"

"Yeah! Get a real job assholes!" LJ hollered again and Lincoln had to laugh despite himself. At least his son wasn't threatening homicide anymore.

"Just relax." Lincoln advised.

"Well, why the hell aren't they doing anything?" LJ asked, motioning to the numerous police officers around the car.

"They're trying. Just give em' a minute." Lincoln replied.

It indeed took a few minutes but eventually the officers were able to disperse the crowd enough so that LJ could slowly inch the car forward and out of the crowd. Once they were free of the crowd LJ floored it and the car screeched forward.

"Slow down." Lincoln's voice remained calm.

"They're already following us!" LJ stated, looking in the rearview mirror and seeing the photographers clamoring to get inside their own vehicles and resume their chase.

"Just ignore them." Lincoln replied staring straight ahead..

"Easier said than done." LJ shot back.

"Do you want me drive?" Lincoln offered.

"No." LJ replied.

"Alright then. Just relax." Lincoln suggested again.

They drove on in silence, with LJ continually glancing back at the pursuing photographers and scowling. But Lincoln didn't let it bother him. He had more important things on his mind.

It wasn't until LJ pulled up to the familiar intersection and put his right turn signal on that Lincoln finally spoke.

"Whoa! Whoa! Where are going?"

LJ gave him a puzzled look.

"Home?"

"No way man. Take me to Michael." Lincoln ordered him

"Now?" LJ asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah now!"

"Dad, there are photographers and news vans all over the place. I mean damn…" he said, craning his neck to look out the window. "There's a fucking chopper following us!"

"I don't care. I've been waiting five fuckin' years! Take me to Michael."

"I don't understand why we don't just wait." LJ continued to argue. "It's not like he's fucking going anywhere!"

"Dammit LJ!" Lincoln hollered, slamming his elbow into the door angrily.

"I'm sorry!" LJ apologized. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry!"

Lincoln sighed and brought his hands to his head. He hadn't meant to yell at his son. Today of all days…that was the last thing he wanted to do. But he had been waiting so long and he was so close. He didn't want to wait anymore.

"Just take me to Michael." He said, this time more calmly. "Please just take me to my brother.

To be continued.


	9. Chapter 9

The Beginning of the End

LJ Burrows tried to hard to concentrate on something else, but the incessant _TAP, TAP, TAPPING,_ was all he could hear and it wasn't helping to calm his already frayed nerves. He sighed and turned away from the window to face his father Lincoln, who was sitting at a small table in the middle of the room.

Lincoln sat, his head resting on one hand, while in the other, he held a small, origami crane between two fingers and was nervously tapping it on the metal tabletop.

"Dad." LJ said quietly.

"Yeah." Lincoln replied without looking up.

"Could you stop that please?"

"Huh?" Lincoln asked, finally looking up.

LJ just gave him a look and motioned toward the offending bird.

"Oh right." Lincoln replied, dropping the paper crane onto the table. "Sorry."

"Just relax." LJ suggested.

"I can't." Lincoln complained. "What the hell is taking so long?"

"There's no visitation on Wednesdays at Statesville. I told you that. Durst is probably busy doing some major ass kissing in the Warden's office tryin' to get Michael in here."

Lincoln sighed and picked the paper crane up off the tabletop and stared at it.

"What the hell do I say to him?" Lincoln asked, still staring at the bird. "It's been five years. What the hell do I say?"

"Dad, it's not like you haven't talked to Michael." LJ reminded him.

Lincoln shook his head.

"That's different. A couple minutes on a pay phone twice a month…It's not the same."

Lincoln hadn't even been allowed to speak with Michael until after his exoneration for the murder of Terrance Steadman. And that took almost a year. The only connection he had with Michael during those 12 months were hand written messages from Michael or reports on his well being, delivered by either LJ or their lawyer, William Durst. And those were the longest twelve months of his life. It was bad enough that the state had decided to keep them separated, but to not even be able to speak with him… it was unbearable.

When they were finally allowed to communicate on the telephone, the conversations were usually very short and one sided. Michael never said a whole lot and Lincoln never hung up the phone feeling confident that Michael was OK.

"Dad." LJ raised his voice, realizing that his dad was in his own little world of thought. When Lincoln looked up, he continued. "It's going to be alright. Just relax."

Lincoln opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when the door opened and Durst walked in, followed by Michael who, in turn, was followed by Guard.

"Michael." Lincoln jumped up from the table and was across the room before Michael even had a chance to reply. Throwing his arms around his little brother, Lincoln couldn't hold back his tears. Michael reciprocated by wrapping his arms around Lincoln and burying his face in his older brother's shoulder

"Are you alright?" Lincoln asked.

Michael said nothing. He merely nodded his head while keeping a firm grip on his brother. His answer however, didn't satisfy Lincoln who quickly released his grip. Taking Michael's face in his hands, he forced his brother to look him in the eyes and asked again.

"Are you alright?"

Lincoln's clenched jaw and desperate expression were not lost on Michael. Lincoln needed to hear him say it…and Michael knew it.

"Yes." He finally managed to stammer. "I'm alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Lincoln. I'm fine." Michael repeated. "Are you?"

"I am now." Lincoln replied, pulling Michael back into his embrace. "My God Michael…I thought I'd never see you again."

"I know." Michael replied.

Lincoln finally released his grip on Michael and took a step back…taking a good look at him for the first time in five years

"Shit Michael…you lost weight kid."

Michael laughed, as he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"I know." He agreed. "LJ. What's up kiddo? I didn't even see you standing there." he said having just noticed his nephew standing next to him.

"That's OK." LJ joked. "I won't take it personally."

"C'mere." Michael said, pulling LJ closer and giving him a hug. "Thanks for bringing him."

"You're welcome." LJ replied.

"They are giving you boys a half hour to talk." Durst informed them. Then turning to the guard, he added… "Alone."

"Fine." The guard acquiesced. "I'll be right outside."

Lincoln smiled as the guard left the room. He hadn't been thrilled about the prospect of the guard hovering over them while he and Michael talked.

"I'm going to step out as well." Durst informed them. "Give you boys some time to catch up."

"Yeah. Actually, I should go call Amber too." LJ added. "She's probably wondering where we are?"

"Wondering where we are?" Lincoln repeated incredulously. "All she's got to do is turn on the news. The whole fuckin' state of Illinois knows where we are right now." He added with a chuckle.

LJ laughed.

"Yeah. You're probably right. But…" he paused and looked at Michael. His uncle needed time alone with Lincoln and he knew it. "…I should check in anyway. Just to let her know we're alright."

"OK man." Lincoln replied.

Michael and Lincoln watched as LJ walked out, closing the door behind him. When he was gone, Lincoln turned back to Michael.

"You wanna sit down?" he asked, motioning toward the table.

"Yeah." Michael replied and took at seat, while Lincoln seated himself at the table opposite him.

Michael smiled when he noticed the worn paper crane laying on the table top. He picked it up and began playing with it nervously.

"So…" Lincoln began nervously.

"So…" Michael repeated and they both laughed.

"Man…there's so much I wanna say. I just have no idea where to begin." Lincoln admitted.

Michael shrugged.

"Well, why don't you start by telling me what it feels like to be a free man." He said with a smile.

Lincoln immediately stopped smiling, his expression turning serious and Michael instantly regretted his question.

"It feels wrong." Lincoln replied.

"Wrong?"

"Yes wrong." Lincoln repeated. "It's not right. It's not right that _I'm_ sitting here a free man and you're still stuck in here."

"Lincoln, it's OK." Michael tried to reassure him.

"No it's not Michael." Lincoln replied, raising his voice. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

"It wasn't supposed to _happen_ at all." Michael reminded him. "But that's not your fault. None of this is."

Lincoln shook his head.

"That's not true. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be in your comfy penthouse apartment making a hundred grand a year and living your life. You'd be happy. That's all I ever wanted for you Michael."

"I know." Michael replied quietly as he stared down at the paper crane still in his hands.

"I should have done something. Back when we were in Utah…I should have done something else to get us out of there."

"What could you have done?" Michael asked him.

"I dunno. But it shouldn't have gone down like that. I've thought about that night every day for the last five years. Thought about you and what you had to go through…alone."

"Lincoln." Michael began hesitantly. " I don't…I don't remember what happened in Utah. OK? And I really don't want to remember."

"Well that's good." Lincoln replied. "Cuz I wish to hell I didn't remember."

"Maybe we could talk about something else." Michael said. It was really more of a request than a suggestion.

"OK." Lincoln agreed, not wanting to upset him. "What do you want to talk about?"

Michael thought about this for a moment, then looked up at Lincoln and smiled.

"Veronica?"

"Ah…Veronica." Lincoln replied, lounging back in his chair, smiling. "You've seen her. Right?"

"Yep. LJ brought her by a few weeks ago. She's beautiful."

"You hold her?" Lincoln asked.

"Just for minute." Michael replied. "I was a little nervous. She's so… tiny!"

"Well she's five months old Michael." Lincoln reminded him, laughing.

"I know." Michael replied defensively. Then added…"Grandpa!"

"And there it is!" Lincoln said, laughing once again.

"I'm sorry." Michael said, laughing as well. "I just had to say it one time. I still can't believe it."

"_You_ can't believe it." Lincoln replied. "_I_ can't believe it. I'm not old enough to be a grandpa. I'm only forty for cryin' out loud!"

"Forty one." Michael reminded him.

"Barely!" Lincoln replied.

"Well, if you think _that's_ surreal…try becoming a _great uncle_ at thirty five!"

Lincoln's eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows as though surprised by this revelation.

"That's right! Shit man…I never thought of that. Wow!"

"Yeah. And you thought you had issues." Michael laughed and then casually reached his left arm across his chest to scratch his shoulder. When he did this, the sleeve of his prison issued sweatshirt slid up his arm a bit and Lincoln noticed something that stopped him cold.

"Hey…what is that?" he asked, no longer laughing.

"What?" Michael asked, lowering his arm and glancing behind him to find the source of Lincoln's puzzlement.

"On your arm man. What is that?" Lincoln repeated, reaching out for Michael's arm, which was now resting on the table.

Michael suddenly looked panicked as he pulled his arm back.

"It's nothing." He replied, tugging the sleeve of his sweatshirt down so it was practically obscuring his entire hand.

"If it's nothing, then let me see." Lincoln said sternly, reaching out again.

"Linc…" Michael began.

"I said let me see!" Lincoln repeated, then reached across and grabbed his brother's arm, pulling it across the table with such force that Michael's chest slammed into the side of the table.

"Shit! Lincoln!" Michael protested.

Lincoln ignored him and pushed Michael's sleeve up, gasping at what he saw. The entire front of Michael's forearm, from wrist to elbow, was horribly scarred. The once elaborate tattoo that covered his arm was gone. Now replaced with long, wide strip of white mangled flesh.

"That's not nothing Michael." Lincoln said, unable to hide the horror in his voice. "What the hell happened?"

"Nothing. Just forget it." Michael replied, looking down at the table once again.

"I'm not going to fuckin' forget it Michael! I want to know what happened?" Lincoln hollered at him. And when Michael remained silent he asked. "Was it another con?"

"No." Michael said quietly, still not looking up.

"A guard?"

Michael said nothing. He knew if Lincoln learned the truth he would flip out. But Lincoln took his silence to mean that he was correct and slammed his fists on the tabletop angrily.

"I knew it!" he seethed, jumping up from the table. "Where the hell is Durst?" he asked as he headed toward the door.

"Lincoln wait!" Michael begged, getting up from the table to intercept his brother.

"No!" Lincoln barked at him as he attempted to push his way by. "I'm going to put an end to this shit right now!"

"No don't Lincoln! It wasn't a guard!" Michael cried out desperately.

"Make up your mind Michael!" Lincoln replied, whipping back around to face his brother. "You already said it wasn't a con. So if it wasn't a con and it wasn't a guard…who the hell was it?"

Michael closed his eyes. He couldn't look at Lincoln. He was too ashamed.

"Oh my god." Lincoln replied, finally realizing. "Michael…Did you do this?"

To be continued...


	10. Chapter 10

The Beginning of the End

"I'm going to go back to my cell now." Michael said calmly.

He had that look in his eye… a look that Lincoln knew too well. That vacant stare that used to scare the shit out of him when they were younger. It still did.

"Michael wait." Lincoln said desperately, reaching out and grabbing his younger brother by the arm before he had a chance to reach the door.

"Linc…please." Michael said closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at his brother.

"I just want to talk to you. That's all."

"Not now." Michael replied as he attempted to wrench his arm free of Lincoln's grasp.

"Yes! Now!" Lincoln shot back angrily, tightening his grip. It was only when he saw Michael wince in pain that he realized he was letting his anger get the best of him and he immediately let go.

"Just go home Linc." Michael said, banging on the door to get the guards attention.

Lincoln couldn't believe what was happening. This was not how he pictured his reunion with Michael. He couldn't let his little brother just walk out the door. Not without answers. He quickly stepped between Michael and the door and just as the guard started to open it, he quickly pushed it shut and used his weight to hold the door closed.

"Lincoln! What the hell are you doing?"

Michael could hear the door handle rattling and the guard struggling as he tried to open the door.

"Hey! What the hell is going on in there?" The guard hollered from the other side.

"Lincoln! Let go of the door!"

"No!" Lincoln protested. "Not until I get some answers from you."

"Open this door!" the guard continued pounding.

Michael could feel the panic beginning to take over and he brought his hands shaking hands to his head.

"Michael…just tell me what happened?" Lincoln pleaded.

"Lincoln, you just got out of jail. Are you crazy? Open the door! " Michael continued to beg as sweat dripped from his brow and he tried desperately to catch his breath.

"Lincoln? Michael? What the hell is going on in there?" Durst's stern voice came from behind the door. "Boys, you open this door right now!"

"Michael please. Talk to me." Lincoln said, lowering his voice as he tried desperately to ignore LJ who was now hollering at him from behind the door as well.

"Just move!" Michael snapped at him, shoving him away from the door.

With Lincoln's weight no longer holding the door shut, the guard literally fell into the room and Michael had to catch him before he fell to the floor.

"What the fuck!" the guard fumed.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Durst demanded to know as he rushed into the room after the guard. And when Michael said nothing, he turned his attention to Lincoln who simply replied…

"What? We had fifteen minutes left."

"Is he kidding?" the guard asked Durst, clearly not appreciating Lincoln's sarcasm.

"Lincoln." Durst said, admonishing him with a stern glare.

"I want to go back to my cell." Michael said. "Now!"

The Guard and Durst exchanged looks of confusion. They had no clue what was going on and neither Michael nor Lincoln were offering any type of explanation.

"Take him back to his cell." Durst replied, clearly frustrated. He had known Michael long enough to know when not to push him further. Something had obviously upset him, but Durst figured his best bet was to try to get answers from Lincoln rather than Michael.

"With pleasure." The guard replied, happy to liberate himself from the situation. "Let's go." He said, taking Michael by the arm and leading him out the door.

"Uncle Mike…Are you alright?" a nervous LJ asked as Michael passed him on the way out.

"I'm fine buddy." Michael reassured him. "Just take your dad home."

Lincoln watched as Michael and the guard disappeared out the door. When they were gone and LJ had shut the door, he could no longer control his anger. He immediately picked up the closest chair and hurled it to the other side of the room.

"God Dammit!" he hollered, slamming his fists on the table for added emphasis.

LJ jumped and backed nervously up against the door. He had never seen his father so angry.

"Dad? What's going on? What happened?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Michael's arm?" Lincoln demanded, rushing toward Durst who, in turn, backpedaled away from him.

"Lincoln, just calm down." Durst replied trying to maintain his composer.

"Don't tell me to fuckin'calm down!" Lincoln shot back. Then turning to LJ he asked, "Did you know about this?"

"I…I…" LJ stammered nervously.

"It's a simple question LJ! Did you or did you not know about what Michael did to his arm?"

"Well yeah but…"

"But what?" Lincoln demanded. "Why the hell would you keep something like that from me?"

"Because I told him too!" Durst answered for him.

"Why?" Lincoln demanded to know.

"Oh, I don't know." Durst said sarcastically. "I guess I just figured you might react badly and do something stupid. _Clearly_ I was wrong."

"You think that's funny?" Lincoln asked.

"I don't think _any_ of this is funny." Durst shot back. "I told LJ not to tell you what Michael had done because I knew you would react this way. I didn't want you to do something rash and have more time added to your bid. That wasn't going to help either of you!"

"I'm sorry Dad. I should have told you." LJ said approaching his Dad cautiously. "But you had already been thrown in solitary once for losing your temper. I thought if you found out what happened with Uncle Mike… "

"Alright LJ." Lincoln cut him off.

"I just didn't want you going back there." LJ continued, tears brimming in his eyes as he tried to justify his actions to his father.

"Alright LJ. Alright." Lincoln said and reached out to embrace his son. "It's OK."

"I'm sorry Dad." LJ cried, burying his face in his father's shoulder.

"I know." Lincoln replied, kissing the top of his son's head. "It's OK. Calm down."

"If you want, we can discuss Michael now. But if you're just going to lose your temper again, tell me now and I'll leave. Your choice." Durst informed him.

Lincoln sighed and responded by taking a seat at the table.

"OK." Durst smiled and took a seat across from him.

LJ decided to forego a seat at the table and instead sat himself on the floor. With his back against the wall, he pulled his knees up close to his chest and rested his elbows on them as he listened.

"I'm listening. Start talking." Lincoln demanded.

Durst sighed as he tried to think of the best way to approach the topic without further upsetting his client. There really was no way to make the story any less unpleasant without blatantly lying. So he decided to just give it to him straight and hope for the best.

"It happened about a year and a half ago." Durst began. "Michael's cellmate woke up in the middle of the night and found him sitting on the floor of their cell. He was leaning against the wall, awake…conscious…but totally unresponsive…just scraping his bare forearms back and forth across the concrete floor."

"Jesus Christ." Lincoln moaned and buried his face in his hands as Durst continued.

"They have no idea how long he had been at it. But he did quite a number on his arms. Michael wouldn't talk about it. He said he couldn't remember what happened. But they are pretty sure he was trying to…"

"Obliterate the tat." Lincoln finished for him.

"Yeah." Durst said.

"Dammit Michael." Lincoln said and got up from the table. He paced nervously back and forth for a moment before finally turning back to Durst.

"You should have told me." He said, pointing a finger accusingly at Durst.

"Shit Lincoln. Don't start that again."

"You don't understand. I could have helped him. I know how to deal with him when he gets like this. I could have…"

Lincoln stopped, realizing he had said far more than he wanted to.

Durst gave Lincoln a smug smile and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

"Go on. I'm listening." He prodded.

Lincoln shook his head.

"It's nothing. Forget it."

"Nothing?" Durst asked. "You're unbelievable. You know that? You asked me to look after your brother because you had no one else to ask. You asked me to advocate for him… to keep him safe. How the hell was I supposed to do that when you neglected to inform me that one person Michael might need protection from is himself?"

Lincoln said nothing, merely folded his arms defiantly and shook his head.

"You should have told me his history Lincoln."

"What history?" Lincoln asked even though he already knew exactly what Durst was talking about.

"His psychiatric history." Durst shot back.

LJ, who had been sitting on the floor with his head resting in his hands the entire time, immediately straightened up upon hearing this. This was news to him.

"LJ, can you step out please." Lincoln asked, trying to remain calm.

"Dad, I wanna stay." LJ objected.

"LJ…Please." He asked again.

Lincoln had never been much of a role model to his son, but Michael had always been someone that LJ could look up to. He didn't want his son to hear any more about Michael's trouble past. Not that it would have changed LJ's opinion of him at all. But it would be painful for LJ to hear and Lincoln didn't want to subject him to that.

"Dad." LJ said, getting up from the floor. "Nothing you could say right now could be possibly worse than what I'm imagining. Please…"

"Fine." Lincoln conceded, realizing that LJ was probably right. Durst shouldn't have brought it up with his son in the room. But he had and there was nothing Lincoln could do about that now. LJ might as well know the truth.

LJ took a seat at the table next to Lincoln, who had now turned his attention back to Durst.

"My brother is not suicidal if that's what you're thinking." Lincoln stated matter of factly.

"I never said he was and it's not what I'm thinking." Durst replied. "I have a pretty good idea what Michael was trying to do…other than remove the tattoo that is."

"Oh really? And how's that?" Lincoln asked, leaning back in his chair.

"It's very simple. I just did something you were never willing to do. I talked to his Doctor."

"You talked with Brighton?" Lincoln asked, sounding surprised.

"With Michael's permission…Yes. He was very helpful in fact. He had a lot to say about Michael."

"Yeah…I'll bet he did." Lincoln shot back, the animosity in his voice evident.

Durst rolled his eyes.

"Lose the attitude Lincoln. It's hardly constructive. The fact is, I learned a lot about Michael from Dr. Brighton. Things that would have been helpful to have known five years ago."

"Such as…" Lincoln pressed.

"The way his mind works for starters. His low latent inhibition."

"Whoa. Hold up." LJ said, raising his hand. "What does that mean-low latent inhibition? What is that?"

"It's a condition LJ." Durst replied. "It means your Uncle doesn't process information like the rest of us do. You see, we are constantly bombarded with information…stimuli from the environment. But our brains filter out all the unnecessary information allowing us to focus on one thing. But people like your Uncle…people with low latent inhibition; their brains don't filter out that unnecessary information."

"So what? You're saying Michael's in this constant state of mental overload?" LJ asked.

"Sort of." Lincoln replied, then buried his face in hands once again. He hated talking about Michael's condition. He always had. Mostly because he never fully understood it.

"Well…it would be overload for _most_ people." Durst clarified. "But for people with high IQs, like your Uncle…they learn to deal with it. And quite often it results in creative genius."

"So Uncle Mike's a genius?"

"Sort of." Lincoln replied. It was becoming his standard answer.

"OK fine. So Uncle Mike's a genius. I get it. But that still doesn't explain why he intentionally hurt himself." LJ pointed out.

"It's a distraction." Durst replied.

"A distraction from what?" LJ wondered out loud.

"From the noise." Lincoln said almost inaudibly, using a phrase Michael had used almost twenty years earlier when explaining himself to Lincoln.

Durst smiled, relieved that Lincoln was finally opening up.

"He inflicts pain because it gives him something else to focus on, when he doesn't want to deal with the thoughts in his head." Lincoln explained.

"And he's done it before?" LJ asked.

Lincoln shook his head.

"Not in a long time."

"You should have told me." Durst said.

"What the hell for?" Lincoln replied. "I just told you…he hasn't done it in years. He was in college the last time."

"And what about the incident in solitary two weeks before you broke out of Fox River?" Durst asked.

Lincoln looked up…shocked that Durst even knew about that. Dr. Brighton certainly wouldn't have known about it.

"I spoke with Warden Pope." Durst explained.

"That was nothing." Lincoln replied angrily. "It was all part of Michael's plan."

"Was it?" Durst shot back. "Because according to Pope and CO on duty that night, you were pretty freaked out by the whole thing. 'Hysterical' was the word I believe they used. If it was all part of Michael's plan…why were you so worried Linc?"

"I'm a good actor." Lincoln replied, lying through his teeth.

Durst smirked and nodded his head.

"Yes Linc. You certainly are." He said, pushing his seat back and getting up from the table. "You certainly are."

Durst headed toward the door and was about to leave, but then stopped and turned back to Linocln, who was still seated at the table with his back to him.

"I'll tell you what Lincoln… When you get tired of _acting_ like you have everything under control and you want to talk. You come see me. Cause I imagine it's been rough these past 25 years trying handle everything on your own. It's time to let someone else in…Don't you think?"

To be continued…


	11. Chapter 11

It was quiet in the tiers of cell block B at Statesville prison on the afternoon of April 13th. The convicts had returned from the mess hall and those that weren't napping where otherwise quietly occupying their time playing cards, writing letters or simply daydreaming about life on the outside. Leonard "Hutch" Hutchinson, Michael Scoffield's cellmate, was taking advantage of the quiet time, reading a book as he sat on his upper bunk in cell 18, waiting for Michael to return from his visit with his brother, Lincoln Burrows.

Until recently, Hutch had never been much of a reader. At 51, he couldn't remember when the last time he had taken the time to sit down and read a book. Of course, years of dodging cops while simultaneously trying to plan and execute your next big robbery heist didn't afford him a lot of free time. But Michael seemed to enjoy it and it always amazed Hutch how he could spend literally hours with is nose buried in a book.

"What's the point?" Hutch finally asked Michael one day. "It the books any good, they'll eventually make it into a movie."

"Yeah, well…I don't get to the movies much these days." Michael replied sarcastically without looking up, as he flipped the page in his worn copy of "The Rule of Four." It was a strange comment Michael thought, coming from a man who had spent the last ten years behind bars and was probably looking at, at least, another ten. When was the last time _he_ had seen a movie. But sometimes Hutch just liked to be argumentative. He seemed to enjoy debating things with Michael.

"Besides, the books are always better than the movies." Michael added as an afterthought.

"You think?" Hutch replied.

"Most definitely."

"You're almost through with that one I see." Hutch pointed out.

"Yep." Michael replied, still not looking up.

"You just started it last night."

"Yep."

"That good. Huh?"

"Yep."

Hutch rolled his eyes. It really was damn near impossible to engage this kid in any type of conversation when he was engrossed in one of his books. He sighed and glanced over at the small metal desk in the corner of the cell where Michael had stacked his ever-growing collection of reading material.

"These any good?" Hutch asked, walking over to the desk and picking up a random book from the top of the pile.

Michael briefly glanced up and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Well maybe I'll read one then." Hutch announced.

Michael finally pulled his nose from the book and smiled incredulously.

"What?" Hutch demanded. "You think I can't read a book?"

"I didn't say anything." Michael laughed, turning his attention back to his own book. "Knock yourself out."

"I'll have you know, I was reading books before you were even born kiddo."

"I didn't say anything." Michael insisted as he flipped another page in his book.

"I can read a book." Hutch muttered to himself one final time.

And that's exactly what he did. And while it took him significantly longer than Michael, he eventually made it through Michael's entire desktop collection. And he really did enjoy it. Michael was right.

"Open 18."

Hutch looked up and saw a CO escorting Michael back from his visit with Lincoln.

"All clear. Close it up!" The CO yelled again once Michael had stepped inside.

Hutch closed his book and looked down at his cellmate. He was expecting Michael to be all smiles and ready to talk his ear off about his visit with his brother. But something was wrong. Michael didn't look at all happy.

"So…How'd it go?" Hutch said, almost afraid to ask.

Michael said nothing. He didn't even acknowledge his cellmate. He simply disappeared into the bunk below.

"Shit!" Hutch muttered to himself. "That's never a good sign."

He hopped down from his bunk and turned to face Michael.

"Hey kid… What happened?" He asked.

Michael remained silent as he sat on his bunk, nervously tapping his thumbs on his knees, which were pulled up close to his chest.

"Michael?" Hutch said, tilting his head as he tried to make eye contact with the young man. But it was no use. Michael was staring straight ahead, but he wasn't seeing anything. He was in his own little world and Hutch knew that was never a good thing.

"Hey kid! I'm talking to you!" Hutch tried using a more, stern authoritative voice to break through to Michael.

When that didn't work, he decided to try a different approach…begging.

"Come on kid. Don't do this to me. OK? You know how I hate it when you do that vacant stare thing. It freaks me out. OK? So just…just… knock it off!"

Still nothing.

Hutch was starting to panic. No one in Statesville knew Michael better than Hutch. And no one knew better than Hutch what Michael was capable of when he kept things bottled up and let them fester inside of him. It was not a good sign that Michael wasn't talking and the longer it went on, the worse it would get. Normally, Hutch would give Michael some time…let him work it out. But he would keep a close eye on him and normally, Michael would come around. But the fact that he was behaving this way after a visit with Lincoln concerned him.

Hutch glanced down at Michael and then toward the front of the cell. He didn't want to have to summon a CO, but if Michael was going to flip out on him again, he would need some help. He approached the bars and began calling out…

"Boss! Hey! I need a guard down here. I think we uh…I think we have a situation here!"

"No. We don't"

Hutch whipped around to find Michael looking up at him.

"We don't have a situation here." Michael repeated calmly, despite the fact that Hutch's declaration had caused a bit of chaos and excitement in the surrounding cells.

The once quiet cons were now all pressed to the bars of their cells, laughing, yelling and trying to determine what was going on in Cell 18.

"Yo! Heads up fellas! Looks like Scofield is on the fast track to the whack shack again!" One con yelled out excitedly.

"Man! What the hell is wrong with you then?" Hutch asked Michael angrily, trying hard to ignore the rowdy cons. " Didn't you hear me talking to you?"

"I heard you. I was thinking."

"You were thinking? And what? You can't think and acknowledge me at the same time? Damn kid! Learn to multi-task will ya?" Hutch spat back.

His final comment caused Michael to smile despite himself, which only enraged Hutch further.

"You think that's funny? You scared the shit out of me!"

"I'm sorry." Michael replied.

"What's going on Hutch?"

Hutch and Michael turned their attention back to the front of the cell where not one, but three COs were now standing outside the cell looking anxious. Neither Hutch nor Michael was surprised to see so many. This wasn't the first time COs had been summoned to cell 18 and they all knew what Michael was capable of. So whenever Hutch summoned them because there was "a situation" they came quickly and they came prepared.

"Hutch?"

"Uh…I think I may have jumped the gun this time fellas." Hutch replied apologetically. "Everything is fine."

"You sure?" the CO asked skeptically, glancing over at Michael.

"Yeah. I'm sure." Hutch said.

"Scofield?"

"I'm fine Boss." Michael assured them.

The guards still looked skeptical. They knew something had to have happened for Hutch to call out like he had. But realizing they weren't going to get any more information from the cellmates, they turned and walked away.

"Hey! Shut the hell up!" One of them yelled out to the rest tier as they walked away. "Now! Or you cons will lose your yard time for a week!"

That seemed to work and as the cell block quieted down, Hutch turned back to Michael who was still seated on his bunk.

"Now…are you going to tell me what the hell happened with your brother? And don't try to tell me nothing kid. Because I _know_ you."

"He's angry with me." Michael replied quietly.

"Angry with you? Why the hell would your brother be angry with you?"

Hutch could see the tears start to well up in his cellmates eyes as the young man began rubbing his mutilated forearm.

"Because I broke my promise." Michael said, choking back sobs. "I disappointed him. Again."

To be continued…


	12. Chapter 12

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of you have asked if Sarah is going to appear in this story and "save Michael". The answer is no. I'm sorry if that's what you're waiting for. While Sarah might appear in the story at some point (I haven't decided yet) this is not a Michael/Sarah story. It's a story about the brothers. There are tons of MiSa stories out there but very few for those who aren't interested in that. So that is what I wanted to do. I appreciate all of you for reading and especially those who have taken the time to review. But I just wanted to let you know now that that is not the direction this story will be taking. Thanks again for reading!

"You're kidding me. Right?" Hutch asked Michael as he paced back in forth in front of their bunks and tried to absorb what Michael had just said. "Lincoln's disappointed with _you_? He's upset with _you_?"

"Yes." Michael replied. He wasn't really sure where Hutch was going with this, but he didn't appreciate his tone.

"Well… I don't really know if that's true. But if it is and I were you….I'd just have two little words for your brother. FUCK YOU."

"Excuse me?" Michael replied, clearly dumbfounded.

"You heard me. FUCK HIM! Jesus Michael, grow up! You have your big brother up on this pedestal. You think he's so God damn perfect. You're always so worried about what _he_ thinks of you! But the fact is… That man should be kissing the ground that you walk on after all that you have done for him."

"Lincoln never asked me to break him out of jail." Michael shot back in defense of his brother.

"Of course he didn't. And he never asked you to go to college and graduate the top of your class just so that you could land a six figure job and spend your hard earn dollars bailing his sorry ass out of jail every other week. But that's exactly what you did. Isn't it?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Michael said, his teeth clenched in anger.

"Don't I?"

Hutch put a hand on the top bunk and leaned down to look right into Michael's eyes.

"You threw your life away for him Michael."

"I threw my life away to save his life. There's a difference. He was framed for a murder he didn't commit! He was sentenced to die all so that the Government could cover their ass and settle a score…"

"Oh blah, blah, blah!" Hutch replied, rolling his eyes and turning away from Michael in disgust. "I've heard the story a thousand times Michael. The whole country has. And it's tragic, it's unfair and it sucks! I agree. But the fact is…it never would have happened…_it never would have been possible,_ if you brother hadn't been such a screw up to begin with!"

"Shut your fuckin' mouth!" Michael hollered. He then flew off the bed in a rage and lunged at his cellmate, throwing him into the wall with such force that the older man winced in pain as his back slammed into the cold, hard concrete.

"Think about it Michael." Hutch gasped as Michaels forearm pressed firmly against his throat. "You know it's true. The man they were after…the man they wanted to silence…_your_ father…he had two sons. But they chose Lincoln."

"They didn't know about me."

"Oh please Michael! We're talking about the Government here Michael! Of course they knew about you. But even if you are right and they didn't know about you. It doesn't matter. They didn't need you. They couldn't use you. _You_ didn't owe some low life scumbag Ninety grand. And _you_ weren't willing to pick up a gun, walk into a parking garage, and kill someone in cold blood just to settle a debt."

"It wasn't like that! They threatened to kill his son! But he never would have…."

"And _you_ didn't have a rap sheet a mile long to substantiate your guilt!" Hutch said, shoving Michael away. "Lincoln did!"

Michael pressed his back to the wall and closed his eyes tightly. There was nothing he wanted more than for the cell doors to open so he could run from the cell before he had a chance to prove to Hutch just how stupid he could be. He hated Hutch right now and he wanted to kill him for talking about Lincoln like that.

"I'm telling you Michael…" Hutch said, lowering his voice. "You threw your life away for that man. He has no reason at all to be disappointed or upset with you."

Michael slid down the wall and seated himself on the floor. He pressed his head back against the wall and closed his eyes because he knew that the mere site of Hutch right now would only enrage him more.

"I may have thrown my life away for Lincoln. But that's only because he had already done the exact same thing for me."

Hutch folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the bunks, waiting for Michael to explain.

"You think you're so smart. You think you know everything about my brother…" Michael seethed. "You don't know anything about him!"

"So why don't you enlighten me." Hutch challenged, taking a seat on Michael's bunk.

He wasn't proud of the fact that he had caused Michael so much pain. In fact, it was tearing him up inside to see the kid so distraught. But he also hated to see Michael beating himself up all the time trying to please other people…especially his brother. It just made no sense to him.

"Why should I?" Michael shot back. "You've already judged him…just like everyone else. You have no idea what he's done for me."

"You're right." Hutch conceded, bringing his hands to head in frustration. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you kid. I hate seeing your beating yourself up all the time. You don't deserve that!"

"Well neither does Lincoln." Michael replied. "He gave up everything for me. You think he couldn't have been someone? Gone to college? Been successful? He never had the chance. After our mother died…we had no one but each other and Lincoln took care of me. And if you think I'm difficult now…" Michael chuckled and rolled his eyes. "That's nothing compared to what Lincoln had to deal with."

"You're not difficult Michael. You've got problems. So what? Everyone's got problems."

"Yes but a sixteen…seventeen year old kid should not have to deal with his little brother's problems! But he did it! And he never complained. Not to me anyway."

Michael took a breath as he started pacing the cell, back and forth in front of Hutch.

"He'd always say, 'You just do what you do Michael…go to school, get good grades, be a kid. You let me worry about the rest.' How fair is that? He was just a kid himself."

"It's not fair. You're right. But life isn't always fair Michael. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. And it sucks even more when those good people happen to be kids like you and your brother. But you can't blame yourself for that."

"Oh…but I haven't even gotten to the best part yet!" Michael exclaimed with an eerie hint of excitement in his voice. "You see, I did just what Lincoln told me to do. What Lincoln _enabled _me to do. I got good grades. I went to college. I became successful. And how did I repay my big brother?"

Michael paused as if waiting for Hutch to guess. When Hutch remained silent, Michael continued.

"I turned my back on him. I belittled him. I was embarrassed by him. Because I thought he was loser…just like you do."

Hutch shook his head.

"No Michael. I don't think your brother's a loser. I'm sorry. I never should have said those things that I did. I just…"

"No, No!" Michael interrupted him. "It's OK. Because you see…you don't know him. All you know, is what you've heard about him. What you've read in the papers or seen on tv. And they certainly haven't painted him a saint. So it's OK for you to think that. It's excusable. It is inexcusable for _me_ to have ever thought that about my brother."

"Michael…"

"It is _appalling_ that I ever thought that way." Michael continued, ignoring Hutch's attempts to stop him. "But I did. He literally saved my life and I turned my back on him. So yeah. I threw away my life…the money…the career. But you know what? I'll walk out of here in year and I'll be OK with that. Because that's exactly what Lincoln did for me. I owe him that."

Michael lowered his head and buried his face in his arms that were crossed and resting on his knees. He didn't want to talk anymore. He didn't want to think anymore.

"What was the promise?" Hutch asked after a few moments of silence.

"What?" Michael asked, looking up.

"The promise." Hutch repeated. "You said you're brother was disappointed with you because you broke your promise."

Michael froze. He didn't even remember saying that.

His mind literally flashed back 20 years to a hospital room at Chicago Memorial Hospital. He could see his brother's tear stained face and feel his strong hand holding his own. He remembered thinking how old Lincoln looked…how tired he looked…and he was barely twenty years old at the time. _"I'm sorry Linc. I'll never do it again. I promise. Please don't be mad." _Michael had begged. He could remember it like it was yesterday. The promise he made…the promise he broke.

"Michael?"

"It's nothing." Michael replied. "Let's just drop it. OK. I'm tired."

"Yeah. OK." Hutch said, deciding not to push.

Michael got up off the floor and approached his bunk, where Hutch was still seated.

"Do you mind?" Michael said. "I want to lie down."

"Right. Sorry." Hutch said jumping up.

Once Hutch had moved, Michael laid down on the bed, facing the wall. He really was tired, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep at all. His mind was racing too much. But he could pretend and at least that way, Hutch would stop talking and asking so many questions.

"Hey Michael?"

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes. Apparently this wasn't going to work after all.

"What?"

"I really am sorry. You know…about what I said about Lincoln."

"Just forget about it." Michael replied.

To be continued…


	13. Chapter 13

Lincoln rested his head on the passenger side window of the SUV as LJ drove them home that afternoon from Statesville Prison. Neither of them spoke. LJ was concentrating on making his way through the late afternoon traffic, while simultaneously trying to keep of ahead of the pursuing reporters. Lincoln, on the other hand, had other things on his mind.

"_You should have told me his history Lincoln."_

Durst words kept echoing in Lincoln's mind.

"It's very simple. I just did something you were never willing to do."

"…_.something you were never willing to do."_

Lincoln closed his eyes and began rubbing his forehead with his hand. That tone…that accusing tone Durst had used. _Was he right? _Lincoln thought to himself_. Did I somehow screw this up…Again?_

""_I'll tell you what Lincoln… When you get tired of acting like you have everything under control and you want to talk. You come see me… It's time to let someone else in…Don't you think_?"

Lincoln sighed and threw his head back against the headrest.

LJ glanced over at his father, but said nothing. He knew that the events of this afternoon had been particularly trying on his Dad and he didn't want to risk upsetting him again. He had waited so long to be reunited with his father on the outside. The last thing he wanted was for his dad to be angry with him.

Lincoln opened his eyes and turned to look out the window once again, hoping to distract himself by watching the suburban landscape whisk by outside. It wasn't working. All he could think about was Michael and his argument with William Durst.

This certainly wasn't how Lincoln had anticipated his reunion with Michael. He had waited five years to see him. He waited five years to be able to stand in a room with his brother and see for himself that "Yes", Michael was OK. And he _seemed_ to be. And Lincoln was relieved. He had felt as though the weight of the world had finally been lifted off his shoulders. But all that changed the moment he saw Michael's arm and realized what his brother had done. Again. It would have almost been easier to accept if a convict or a guard had done it. Yes, he would have been pissed and he certainly would have raised holy hell. But it wouldn't have been easier.

Of course, according to Durst. This was all Lincoln's fault anyway. _And maybe he was right_. Lincoln thought to himself. It certainly wasn't the first time he had been told that. He remembered vividly the first time someone had called him on his shit. It was the first time he nearly lost Michael and the day Lisa took LJ and walked out of his life for good.

FLASHBACK -1991 

Lincoln shuffled into the tiny, two bedroom apartment he lived in with Michael, Lisa and their infant son. He slammed the door, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table and headed straight for the refrigerator. He was exhausted and emotionally spent after having spent the evening and entire morning at the hospital with Michael. Now all he wanted was a cold beer to calm his nerves, a warms shower, and some rest. He actually didn't want to leave the hospital, but Michael's Doctors had insisted. They informed him that even though Michael was going to be fine physically, they were not going to release him until he had a complete psychological evaluation and that probably was not going to happen that day. "Go home." They had told him. "You look like hell." So that is what he did.

"Lisa. I'm back." He hollered as he opened the fridge and grabbed a beer from the top shelf. What he _really _wanted…what he really _needed_…was to smoke a joint. But Lisa was home and he knew she wouldn't approve. So he had to settle for the beer that he opened and quickly downed half the bottle in a few gulps.

"Lisa!" he hollered again, surprised that she hadn't come running when he called to her the first time. He knew she was concerned about Michael. Certainly she was anxious to hear how he was.

He placed the nearly empty beer bottle on the counter and headed to toward the bedroom, passing through the small empty living room on his way. When he made it their bedroom, he was surprised to find Lisa throwing her clothes haphazardly into a large suitcase that was lying on the bed.

"What are doing?" Lincoln asked.

"What does it look like?" Lisa replied, without even looking at him as she grabbed an armful of clothes from their closet. "I'm packing. LJ and I are going to stay with my mother. He's with her now."

"Um…OK" Lincoln replied. "If you need to get away for a few days…"

"It's not going to be for a few days Lincoln. We're leaving…for good."

"What?"

"You heard me." She spat back. "I can't do this anymore Lincoln."

"Listen…" Lincoln began, taking her arm. "If this is about Michael…"

Lincoln couldn't even complete his sentence. Lisa spun around and slapped him so hard he actually had to take a step back.

"OH!" She screamed at him. "Don't you dare! Don't you fuckin' dare blame this on a fifteen year old boy."

"I wasn't …I…I…." Lincoln sputtered as he held his stinging face with his hand.

"Because believe me, Lincoln. I would take him with me in a heartbeat if I could."

"I wasn't blaming him!" Lincoln insisted. "I'm just trying to figure out what the hell is going on!"

"Mike is in the hospital Lincoln. _That's _what's going on." Lisa spat back, grabbing an empty duffel from the bed and pushing her way past Lincoln to exit the room.

"I thought you just said this wasn't about Michael!" Lincoln said, chasing Lisa down the hall and into Michael's bedroom.

"It isn't about Michael." Lisa replied as she starting pulling baby clothes out of the bureau that Michael shared with his nephew.

"Christ! Fuckin' make up your mind!" Lincoln groaned.

Lisa ignored him. She emptied the last of LJ's clothes from the bureau and slammed the drawer shut. She then made he way to the closet, rummaging though Michael's mess to find her son's shoes.

"Would you just stop!" Lincoln demanded, grabbing Lisa by the arm and pulling her to her feet. "Just calm the fuck down a minute and talk to me."

"Oh! _Now_ you wanna talk!" Lisa cried, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. "That's all I've wanted you to do for months now. Talk to me! Talk to Michael!"

"So talk! Dammit! You wanna talk! Let's talk!" Lincoln bellowed back at her.

"It's too late for that now Lincoln." Lisa replied and attempted to push her way by him. But once again, Lincoln caught her by the arm.

"Look…You're angry with me. I get it! But don't punish LJ and Michael for it. Don't do this Lisa!"

"I'll talk to Michael." Lisa replied. "I'll make him understand."

"Understand? He's not going to fuckin' understand! He's going to think you're abandoning him! Just like everyone else he's ever cared about!"

"I'm not leaving Michael, Lincoln. I'm leaving you."

"Don't do this Lisa. Please. Don't take my son from me. Not now." Lincoln begged.

"I don't have a choice!" Lisa screamed, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "My God Lincoln. Michael could have killed himself last night. And LJ is too young to understand that now. But what if he had been older? What if Michael does this again?"

"He's not going to do it again." Lincoln insisted.

"You don't know that!"

"I do! I talked to Michael! He promised me he wasn't going to do it again!"

"Oh you talked to him? Hallelujah! It's about fuckin' time! And to think it only took slamming his head against a wall half a dozen times to finally get some of your GOD DAMN ATTENTION!"

"What the hell Lisa? You said this wasn't even about Michael!"

"It's not! It's about you! It's about _you_ pretending you have everything under control when you don't! It's about _you_, not listening. It's about _you_ caring more about your god damn pride than you do about your own brother!"

"Oh don't give me that crap!"

"It's the truth and you know it Lincoln! Where were you on Friday?" Lisa asked him, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

"Friday?" Lincoln asked.

"Friday." Lisa repeated. "Michael's guidance counselor asked you to come in on Friday and…"

"Oh that damn counselor is a fuckin' pain in my ass!"

"Where the hell were you Lincoln?" Lisa repeated once again. "And don't tell me you were at work because I spoke to the foreman at your job site and he told me he fired your ass a week ago for fighting with a co-worker."

Lincoln remained silent. There was nothing to say to that. He had been caught in a lie. There was really no way to talk his way out of it and he was too tired and frustrated to even try.

"So where were you? Getting drunk? Getting high? Knocking over a liquor store? All of the above? What? What was it _this_ time Lincoln?"

Lincoln sighed and sat down on the edge of Michael's bed. He was so tired and so upset. He couldn't even think much less try to explain himself to Lisa. And what would he say anyway? She was right. He _had _been out getting drunk and high that day. Lisa had been on his case all week about Michael. The school had been on his case about Michael. And he and Michael couldn't even have a conversation without it turning into a screaming match or an all out brawl. He was stressed and overwhelmed and that was the only way he knew to cope.

"Mom?"

Lincoln looked up. He hadn't even realized Lisa had picked up the phone beside Michael's bed.

"Yeah Mom. I'm OK. Lincoln just got back…No, everything's fine. Can you just come get me now?"

Lincoln sighed and shook his head. He couldn't believe she was actually going to do this.

"Yeah. I think I got everything. OK… ten minutes? I'll be waiting outside."

Lisa hung up the phone and walked over to pick up the duffel bag from in front of the closet.

"My mom's coming to pick me up. I'll leave you the car."

"Don't do me any favors." Lincoln snarled at her.

Lisa rolled her eyes and headed toward the door.

"Lisa!" Lincoln said getting up from the bed. "Please! I'm asking you. Don't do this. Don't take my son away from me"

Lisa closed her eyes and tried to hold back her tears.

"You know where to find him Lincoln. And as long as your sober and calm…your welcome to visit him any time. We'll work the rest out later."

She turned back towards the door, but stopped again and turned back to face Lincoln.

"Tell Michael…" She paused to compose herself as she choked back tears. "Tell Michael that LJ and I love him and we'll see him soon."

PRESENT TIME 

"Dad?" LJ voice interrupted Lincoln's thoughts.

Lincoln shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his mind of painful memories and then turned to face his son.

"Yeah buddy."

"You OK?" LJ asked, clearly concerned.

"Yeah. Yeah LJ. I'm fine." Lincoln replied. It was then that Lincoln realized that the car had stopped.

"Well…We're here." LJ said, throwing the car into park and motioning to the modest, yet decent sized house before them. "Welcome home dad."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

"LJ, this is great!" Lincoln said enthusiastically as he stepped into the spacious living room of his son's home and looked around. "I mean…wow!"

"Yeah." LJ agreed. "It's pretty cool."

LJ crossed the room to the foot of the staircases.

"Amber! We're back!"

"Just a second! I'll be right down!" the girl's voice resonated from the upper floor.

"You want a beer or something?" LJ asked, turning his attention back to his dad.

"Yeah. Absolutely." Lincoln replied. He couldn't remember the last time he had a nice cold beer. And he could definitely use one after the afternoon he had just had.

"Come on. The kitchen is right through here." LJ said, motioning for his Dad to follow.

The kitchen was equally impressive. Granite countertops, stainless steal appliances. This house definitely beat the 500 square foot shit box Lincoln had been living in prior to his incarceration. Lincoln took a seat at the counter and ran his hand over the smooth, shining granite.

"This is sweet LJ. Really, really nice. I still can't believe you live here."

LJ laughed as he opened the fridge and grabbed two beers from the shelf.

"Dad…you've only seen two rooms."

"I know." Lincoln agreed. "I can't wait to see the rest."

"Well…the great room is right up those stairs…." LJ began, handing his father a beer and taking a swig of his own. "And we got three bedrooms upstairs. Two and half baths."

Lincoln's eyes grew wide with excitement as he listened to his son.

"It's not huge. But it's nice." LJ continued. "I mean…we could've gone bigger. But we didn't want to be…what's the word Amber used?"

"Ostentatious." Amber said, walking into the room.

Lincoln smiled and hopped up from his chair to greet her.

Lincoln had met LJ's girlfriend, Amber McCall shortly after he was recaptured and sent back to Fox River and had seen her on several occasions over the past five years. She was a beautiful girl, with long dark hair, friendly eyes and smile that could melt hearts. But more importantly, she was a sweet, caring individual who loved LJ with all her heart. And that alone was enough for Lincoln.

LJ and Amber had met in high school but it wasn't until after the whole conspiracy situation had happened and LJ was on the run that the two had become real close. It all started when LJ had sent Amber a picture he had taken on his cell phone the day that his mother and stepfather had been murdered. Most teenage girls would have deleted the photo and denied they had ever known LJ Burrows. He was after all, an accused murderer on the run from the authorities. But not Amber. She was determined to find out the truth behind the photo and clear her friends name and that almost cost her her life.

"Ostentatious!" LJ repeated, slapping his head jokingly. "That's it! Thank you baby."

"You're welcome darling." She replied jokingly, then turned to face Lincoln. "Mr. Burrows! It's so good to see you!"

She reached out to give Lincoln a hug, which he happily returned.

"Oh…it's good to see you sweetheart. But please! Stop calling me Mr. Burrows I told you…it's Lincoln."

"Sorry! Sorry!" She replied as she released him.

"I was just telling LJ how great this place is." Lincoln informed her.

"Yeah..well. We're still getting settled. We got a lot stuff in boxes yet. So you'll have to excuse the mess in your room. That's kinda where we've been throwing all the miscellaneous shit we haven't gotten around to yet."

Lincoln shook his head.

"Hey! You won't hear me complaining. As long as it has four walls and no bars…I'm a happy man."

Amber laughed as she wrapped her arms around LJ's waist.

"Well…we like it. But I know LJ would give it all back in a heartbeat if he could have his mother back." She noted sadly, resting her head on LJ's shoulder. "I would too."

"Yeah." Lincoln agreed, lowering his head. He knew that Amber was referring to the 8.5 million LJ had recently received from the Government as settlement for his mother's wrongful death suit. He'd give anything for LJ to have his mother back. He knew how much his son missed her…how much he loved her. Lincoln and Lisa hadn't been on great terms when she died, but a part of him still loved her too. A part of him always would. After all, she had given him the greatest gift in the world. She had given him LJ. How could he not love her for that? It devastated him that Lisa never had the chance to meet their granddaughter.

"Is Vee sleeping?" LJ asked.

Amber sighed and frowned.

"Yeah. I tried to keep her up as long as I could but….I didn't know when you guys were getting back."

"Yeah…that's my fault." Lincoln replied. "I insisted LJ take me to see Michael."

"How is Michael?" Amber asked.

LJ looked at his father who immediately looked away.

"Is he OK?" Amber asked, clearly concerned.

"Yeah. He's fine." LJ assured her.

"He won't be fine until he is out of that Prison and home where he belongs." Lincoln shot back.

"Dad." LJ said.

"Sorry." Lincoln replied, realizing that he was letting his emotions take control again.

It was Veronica's faint cry sounding through the baby monitor on the kitchen counter that caught everyone's attention. Lincoln's attitude immediately changed when he heard her and he smiled excitedly.

"She's up." He said.

"Certainly sounds like it." LJ said smiling.

"She's probably hungry." Amber informed them, looking at her watch. "It's just about her dinner time.

"Well by all means…Let's not keep her waiting." Lincoln replied.

Later, after Veronica had been fed and LJ and Amber were busy preparing dinner for the adults, Lincoln took advantage of some alone time with his granddaughter. Holding the tiny baby carefully in his large arms, Lincoln slowly danced around the living room happily as the Veronica stared at him with her big blues eyes.

"Who's a pretty girl. Huh? Are you grandpa's pretty girl?" he asked. Then, hoisting her above his head he quickly lowered her down, planting several kisses on the crook of her neck before raising her up in the air again. Veronica seemed to like this game and she giggled happily, flailing her arms as if trying to reach Lincoln's smiling face.

"You like that?" Lincoln asked, looking up at the child he still had hoisted in the air above him. "You want grandpa to do it again?"

He quickly lowered her down again and planted some more kisses on her cheek, eliciting more squeals of excitement from Veronica.

"Um…Dad? You might not want to do that." LJ informed him as he stood in the archway leading from the kitchen.

"Oh, don't be such a worry wart LJ." Lincoln replied, not taking his eyes off his granddaughter. "I won't drop her."

LJ laughed.

"I know. That's not what I meant. She just ate dad. You keep bouncing her around like that and she's gonna puke all over you."

"LJ how many time do I have to tell you." Amber said from the kitchen. "Babies do not "puke". They spit up."

"Same difference." LJ and Lincoln replied in unison.

"Here…." LJ said, walking over and taking Veronica from his father's arms. "I'm going to see if I can get her to go down before we sit down to dinner."

"OK." Lincoln replied, reluctantly handing the child over to her father. "Night, night baby girl." he said, kissing her forehead.

Lincoln watched as LJ carried his daughter upstairs. He was so proud of his son. LJ was a great dad. A much better father than he had ever been.

Lincoln plopped himself down on the overstuffed couch in the living and thought back to when LJ was Veronica's age. That was right around the time that Lisa had left him and his relationship with Michael started going downhill.

FLASHBACK 1991 

"Stop bouncing him like that Michael." Lincoln said sternly as he tried to organize his son's clothes and toys into the large overnight bag Lisa had sent him over with.

"Why? He likes it." The fifteen year old replied.

Lincoln tossed one of LJ's toys into the bag and glanced up at Michael. He was laying on the couch with LJ seated on his stomach and continued to bounce the boy despite what Lincoln said. Not that LJ wasn't enjoying it. He was giggling and slapping his tiny hands on his uncle's chest excitedly. But that wasn't the point.

"I don't care if he likes it or not. I told you to knock it off! He just ate and I don't want him puking all over his new outfit before his mother gets here. I don't want to piss her off any more than she already is."

Michael frowned and sat up, placing LJ on his lap.

"Oh right. We would want to do that. God knows I've pissed her off enough." Michael shot back angrily.

"Mike…" Lincoln began.

"What? We both know that's what you're really pissed off about. Just say it! She left because of me."

Lincoln sighed. Michael had been home only a week from the hospital and was taking Lisa's departure very badly. He thought it was his fault and no matter how much Lincoln tried to convince his otherwise, Michael wasn't buying it.

"Michael, that's not true and you know it. I told you…this has nothing to do with you."

"Yeah right." Michael replied. "That's why you've been avoiding me like the plague all week."

Lincoln didn't know what to say to that. He _had_ been avoiding Michael. But it wasn't because he was angry with him. It was because he was angry with himself. It was his fault that Michael ended up in the hospital and it was his fault that Lisa left and took LJ away from them. He didn't know what to do to make any of it right and he didn't know what to say to Michael to make him feel better. So he just avoided him.

"Sometime I just wish…" Michael began, but abruptly stopped when LJ suddenly spit up all over himself, just as Lincoln had predicted.

"Shit Michael! I told you!" Lincoln fumed, walking over to take his son from Michael's lap.

"I'm sorry!" Michael exclaimed.

"Now I gotta change him. Fuckin' listen to me next time! Would ya?" Lincoln said as he dug through LJ's bag, trying to find him a clean outfit.

"I didn't mean it." Michael replied defensively, throwing himself back on the couch and covering his face with his arms.

Lincoln looked up at his brother from where he knelt on the floor. He immediately regretted getting angry like that. Michael had had such a rough week and Lincoln knew that his head was still bothering him. The last thing he needed was to be hollered at.

"I'm sorry. OK?" Lincoln said, standing up. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I know you didn't mean it."

Michael lowered his arms and turned his head toward his brother.

"I _didn't_ mean it. Why would I want to make LJ puke?"

Lincoln had to laugh at that.

"Good point. Listen…I'm going to take LJ and get him cleaned up and changed. Do me a favor and pack all this shit back in his bag.

Michael groaned and rolled off the couch as Lincoln disappeared down the hallway toward the bedroom. He crawled across the floor and started neatly folding all of LJ's stuff and putting it back in the bag. Lincoln hadn't separated any of the dirty stuff from the clean stuff and since Lisa had a over packed and sent LJ with far more than he needed for his overnight stay, there were plenty of clean clothes left over. Michael briefly considered going to get a plastic bag from the kitchen to throw the soiled clothes in, but then decided against it. Lisa was so anal, she would just wash all the clothes regardless. So why bother. He had just about gotten everything back into the bag when there was a knock on the door.

"Lincoln! Lisa's here!" Michael hollered.

"So let her in stupid!" Lincoln replied back.

Michael sighed and pushed himself up off the floor. He really didn't want to answer the door. He was still pissed off at Lisa for leaving and he didn't want to see her. But Lincoln was taking his own sweet time in the bedroom and he couldn't exactly leave her standing in the hallway. Although he _was_ tempted.

Lisa's face lit up when Michael opened the door.

"Hey cutie!"

Michael rolled his eyes and turned his back to her.

"It's Michael." He said sullenly as he walked away.

"Ooh…Excuse me." Lisa said smiling as she walked in and closed the door behind her. "You never minded when I called you "cutie" before."

"Well, now I do." Michael shot back as he sat himself down on the couch and turned on the TV.

"OK. Understood." Lisa replied. "So, is LJ ready to go?"

"He was." Michael replied, not taking his eyes off the television. "But then he puked all over himself so Lincoln's changing him."

"Well, babies tend to do that every once in a while." Lisa said, tossing her purse down on the coffee table.

"Try telling Lincoln that." Michael mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. Would you please shut up. I'm trying to watch TV." Michael snapped at her.

"Hey." Lisa said sitting down on the couch beside Michael. "Listen…I know your upset about me and LJ moving out, but I really don't want that to ruin our relationship."

"We don't have a relationship." Michael replied tersely.

"Sure we do." Lisa insisted. "Sweety, you're like a little brother to me. I love you."

"Well I'm not your little brother!" Michael said, jumping up from the couch. "And you're not my sister. You're not _anything_ to me! You got that?"

Lisa's jaw dropped. She knew Michael was upset but she really hadn't expected this much anger directed at her.

"You're just some stupid slut who was dumb enough to get knocked up by my brother!"

"HEY!"

Michael whipped around and came face to face with an angry Lincoln who had overheard the entire exchange from the hallway.

"You apologize to her right now!" he demanded.

Michael remained stone faced as he looked directly into Lincoln's eyes.

"No." He said calmly.

Lincoln took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He set LJ down inside his pack and play then turned to face Michael once again.

"You apologize to her Michael." He repeated. "I mean it."

"Lincoln…it's OK." Lisa said, getting up from the couch. "He doesn't have to."

"Yes… he does." Lincoln replied. Then, turning back to Michael he added," I don't care how angry you are. Lisa is the mother of _my_ child and you _will _show her some respect."

"Why the hell should I ?" Michael asked. "You never do!"

Having said that, Michael tried to push his way past his brother, but Lincoln grabbed him by his upper arm so tightly that Michael grimaced in pain.

"Lincoln! Let him go!" Lisa cried as she ran and grabbed at Lincoln's free arm. Lincoln easily jerked his arm free from her grasp and turned to grab Michael's other arm.

"What the hell is the matter with you? Huh?" he hollered, shaking Michael violently in the process. "You don't fuckin' walk away from me when I'm talking to you. And you don't speak to people that way!"

"Lincoln, stop it!" Lisa screamed again.

"Get off of me!" Michael hollered at Lincoln. Then, yanking both arms free from Lincoln's grasp, he made a mad dash for his bedroom. He made it about half way down the hall before Lincoln tackled him from behind and they both fell to floor. Michael quickly scramble to his hands and knees and tried to crawl to the safety of his bedroom, but Lincoln caught him by one leg and dragged him back.

"STOP IT!" Lisa screamed as she grabbed Lincoln by his shoulders and tried unsuccessfully to drag him off the younger boy.

Lincoln was so consumed by rage at this point that he didn't even notice Lisa. He turned Michael over and held him down with one hand while slapping him hard across the face with the other.

Michael cried out in pain and brought both arms up to protect himself from another blow. But it never came. Almost as quickly as Michael's behavior had elicited Lincoln's rage, his reaction now quickly caused it to subside.

Lincoln now looked as horrified by what he had done as Michael and Lisa did.

"Oh my god." he said, falling back against the wall, bringing his hand to his head in disbelief.

Lisa quickly stepped over Lincoln and rushed to Michael's side.

"Michael…sweety…Are you OK?"

Michael ignored her. With tears streaming down his face, the defeated boy struggled to his feet and stumbled into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Lisa screamed at Lincoln who was now leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath. "He just got out of the hospital! Are you crazy!"

Lisa got to her feet and went to Michael's door. LJ was now screaming from his pack and play, but she knew he was OK. He was surely frightened by all the screaming and commotion, but she wasn't going to leave with him until she knew Michael was OK.

"Michael?" She tried the doorknob, but it was locked. "Honey…please open the door."

"Go away!" Michael hollered at her from the other side.

"I just want to know if you are alright. Please open the door and let me look at you." Lisa pleaded. "Then I promise you I will leave."

Michael said nothing. Frustrated, Lisa turned back to face Lincoln.

"Great! Now what?"

Still horrified by what he had just done, Lincoln said nothing. He simply stared at Michael's door.

"Lincoln." Lisa said. "Lincoln!"

_PRESENT TIME_

"Lincoln."

Lincoln opened his eyes and sat up quickly on the couch.

"Oh…I'm sorry." Amber said. "I didn't know you were asleep."

"No…that's OK." Lincoln replied, as he swung his legs off the couch and rubbed his tired eyes. "I must have just dozed off."

"Umm…Michael is on the phone." Amber informed him, holding the cordless out for him to take.

"What?" Lincoln said in a panicked tone as he jumped up from the couch. "Is he OK?"

"I…I don't know. I think so."

Lincoln grabbed the phone from her and brought it to his ear.

"Michael?"

"I'm fine." Michael said in a calm voice.

"Shit kid." Lincoln groaned, falling back onto the couch. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Well, why do you always assume the worst? You need to relax Lincoln."

"Relax?" Lincoln repeated. "You're kidding. Right?"

Michael laughed.

"No…actually I'm not. That's why I'm calling. I know that I really freaked you out this afternoon and…I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize Michael. It was my fault. I really need to learn how to control my emotions. That's always been my problem."

"Maybe." Michael conceded. "But I really need to learn not to antagonize you. That's always been _my_ problem."

"You sure you're OK?" Lincoln asked again.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I swear to you. I'm fine. It's just…I mean…when you saw my arm…what I had done…I just couldn't talk to you about it. You know?"

"I know. I shouldn't have pushed."

"I was going to tell you…eventually. Just…not then."

"Mike, I understand. Really."

"You were so happy and I ruined it." Michael continued.

"Mike…you're doing it again." Lincoln informed him.

Michael laughed.

"Sorry."

"Scofield, wrap it up." Lincoln could hear the guard address Michael.

"Linc, I gotta go."

"Yeah. I heard him." Lincoln replied.

"Please don't worry about me any more. OK. Just enjoy your family. That's all I want."

"I will." Lincoln replied. "I'll see you next week. OK?"

"Yeah. OK."

"Maybe I'll bring Veronica by sometime. She's getting so big now. You won't believe it."

"Scofield…Time is up. Let's go."

"Yeah. I'd like that. Listen…I really gotta go."

"OK pal. I'll see you soon."

"Take care." Michael replied and hung up before Lincoln could respond.

"You too buddy." Lincoln said. "You too."

To be continued…


	15. Chapter 15

"Stop staring. It's not polite." Lincoln overheard an angry mother quietly scolding her young son as they stood in the line next to Lincoln at the bank.

"Isn't that the man…" the boy began.

"Close your mouth and face front." The mother replied.

Lincoln chuckled to himself and glanced over at the boy who was trying desperately to wrench his wrist free from his mother's grasp. He felt bad for the kid…getting scolded like that for being curious. _Why shouldn't he stare? Everyone else in the fuckin' place was. And they weren't ten years old._

Lincoln figured he would get used to it. But it was definitely hard. Everywhere he went there were people staring, pointing and whispering. Photographers were camped outside his son's house just waiting to snap a picture of Lincoln with his family or jumping out of the shadows as he walked down the street. It was unnerving…but there wasn't much he could do about it. Unless, of course, he wanted to be re-incarcerated for assault.

A trip was to the bank was really not something Lincoln had been looking forward to. He knew that all eyes would be on him and he was right. But he needed to get some things for Michael and had absolutely no cash. He knew that LJ would have given him whatever he needed had he asked. But he wasn't about to. LJ had done enough by taking Lincoln into his home.

"Next in line please."

Lincoln stepped forward and placed his withdrawal slip down on the counter. The bank teller, who had been looking at her computer when Lincoln stepped forward, finally looked up and was shocked to see the infamous Lincoln Burrows standing before her.

"Um…Good morning sir." She said politely, trying not to sound too shocked. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Lincoln replied. "How are you?"

"Oh, just fine." She replied back, reaching forward to take Lincoln's slip. "You are making a withdrawal this morning?"

"Yes ma'm."

The teller looked at the withdrawal slip more closely.

"Oh…" she said, sounding surprised. "Fifty dollars. That's…it?"

"Yeah. I should have enough in the account." Lincoln replied nervously. He knew there had to be at least a hundred in the account to keep it open.

"Right." She said, looking puzzled.

The teller tapped away at her computer and Lincoln was relieved to hear the printer start up as it spit out his receipt. A few more moments and he would be out of this uncomfortable situation. The teller opened her cash drawer and took out two twenty-dollar bills and one ten and slid it across the counter to Lincoln. She then ripped the receipt from the printer and handed it to him.

"You have a nice day." She said.

"Yeah…you too." Lincoln replied as he took the cash and the receipt and began to walk away. He stopped however when he saw the balance printed on his receipt and quickly turned back to her.

"Whoa! I think you made a mistake." He informed the teller, placing the cash and the receipt back on the counter and sliding it back to her.

"Is there a problem sir?" she asked.

"Um…yeah. That can't be right." Lincoln replied, tapping the bank receipt with his index finger.

She glanced down at the receipt and then back up at Lincoln.

"What's not right?"

"The balance. There's no way I have that much money." Lincoln exclaimed.

"The balance is correct sir."

Lincoln shook his head.

"No. No it's not. It can't be."

"Sir…"

"Listen! I have been incarcerated for the past five years." Lincoln said, trying desperately to ignore all of the customers around him who were now staring in his direction once again. "There's no way…"

"I understand that sir. But there _is_ another name on this account."

Lincoln sighed and clenched his fists.

He had put LJ's name on the account when he opened it… back when he actually had a little bit of money to his name. He wanted to make sure that if anything happened to him the money would be there for him. LJ must have deposited the money into Lincoln's account after he was awarded his settlement.

"You're son made a deposit to this account 6 months ago. I thought you knew."

"Well I didn't!" Lincoln snapped at her and the shocked teller straightened up in her chair.

"I'm sorry." He apologized. "I just… I need you to put the money back."

"What?"

"Put the money back into my sons account." Lincoln said, dragging out the words in a sarcastic nature. Then added, "Please."

"I'm sorry Mr. Burrows. I can't do that."

Lincoln smirked and began drumming his fingers on the countertop in frustration.

"Why not?"

"Well, because your name isn't on his account."

"So."

"So…you can't just deposit money into someone else's account."

"But it's my son's account."

"It doesn't matter." The woman replied, shaking her head.

"Listen! It's not like I'm trying to take money from his account! I'm just want to give my kid his damn money back!" Lincoln hollered at her.

The bank fell silent. Everyone's attention was now focused on Lincoln. Even those who had been polite enough _not_ to stare before, were now watching him intently. He literally wanted to crawl into a hole and die. His face was red and he could feel himself sweating as the embarrassment and frustration began to take hold of him.

The security guard, who had been keeping a close eye on Lincoln from the moment he entered the bank, began to make his way toward counter, but the Teller waved him off, shaking her head.

"Mr. Burrows I am sorry. I really am." She said sympathetically. "But I have to follow the rules."

"Yeah…whatever." Lincoln replied and took his fifty dollars off the counter and stormed off.

"LJ!" Lincoln hollered, entering the house and closing the front door behind him.

He walked over to the front window and could see that the photographers who had been trailing him all morning were now in front of the house and he quickly snapped the blinds shut.

"LJ!" he hollered again, quickly making his way toward the kitchen and nearly smacking right into LJ who was rushing to meet him.

"What Dad? What are you yelling about? The baby is sleeping!"

"Where's Amber?" Lincoln asked, turning toward the stairs to see if she was up there.

"She's at the grocery store picking up stuff for dinner. Why?" LJ replied, still annoyed by his father's yelling.

"You mind telling me what the hell this is?" Lincoln said, turning back to LJ and thrusting his bank receipt in the boy's face.

LJ frowned and grabbed the piece of paper from his father.

"Looks like your bank receipt." he replied.

"No shit Sherlock. Don't be a smart ass." Lincoln snapped back. "Why does my bank receipt say that I have 1.5 million dollars in my account?"

LJ smiled.

"Because you have 1.5 million dollars in your account." LJ replied, stating the obvious.

"Dammit LJ!" Lincoln said, clearly not appreciating his son's sarcasm. "I'm not joking around here. Alright! I wanna know why you put that money into my account."

"Because…"

"Because why?"

"Because you need this dad. You deserve this. Just as much as I do." LJ replied.

"No LJ." Lincoln said, shaking his head furiously.

"Yes dad."

"No! I don't!"

Lincoln turned his back to his son and brought his hands to his head…his mind flashing back to a heartbreaking telephone conversation he had had with his son five years earlier…

_"LJ! Thank God! Are you OK?"_

"_No! Nowhere near it!"_

Those were not the words Lincoln had wanted to hear that day. And it only got worse…

"_They killed her. They killed her. And…right in front of me. Right in front of my eyes man…"_

Lincoln could remember it like it was yesterday. The fear and panic in his son's voice.

_"Why are they doing this?"_

Lincoln had felt so helpless…

"_Why are they doing this?"_

He felt so guilty. They were doing this because of him. Lisa had been murdered and LJ had been traumatized because of him.

"I'm not taking it LJ." Lincoln informed his son. "You put the money back in your account. You hear me? First thing Monday morning… It goes back into your account"

"Why?"

"Because…" Lincoln paused to take a breath as he tried to calm himself. "You're mother is dead because of me."

LJ shook his head.

"No."

"Yes LJ."

"That's not true."

"Dammit LJ! It _is_ true! And if you think I'm going to allow myself to profit from her death you are sorely mistaken."

LJ turned his head and Lincoln could see the boys chin quivering as he fought to hold back his tears.

"Just…Just take the money. OK LJ? I don't want it."

"And you think I do!" LJ shot back, the tears now streaming down his face. "You think having this money makes me feel good? It doesn't!"

"LJ…" Lincoln began.

"NO! You shut up! _I'm_ talking now!" LJ ordered. "I'm profiting from her death too you know."

"That's different LJ." Lincoln insisted.

"No… it's not. But I took the money because I wanted to make them pay for what they did to her and this was the only way."

"And your mother would want you to have it LJ. To take care of your family… That's what she'd want."

"And that's exactly what I'm doing!"

"No! I'm talking about Veronica and Amber! Not me!" Lincoln replied. "I'm your dad LJ. It's not your responsibility to take care of me. I'm supposed to be taking care of you."

"Yeah well…You're doing a hell of a job of it right now." LJ shot back as he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

Lincoln felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. After all LJ had done for him…After all LJ had to deal with because of him…Lincoln had let him down once again.

"You wanna help me out Dad? Then do me a favor…stop giving me grief about this OK? I'm not taking the money back so just fuckin' drop it already!" LJ said and pushed his way past his father and raced up the stairs.

To be continued…


	16. Chapter 16

"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me." Lincoln muttered as he picked up the glossy covered paperback from the bookstore shelf and stared at it in disbelief. 

_Escape from Fox River: The Unauthorized Biography of Lincoln Burrows and Michael Scofield_

"Can you believe this?" Lincoln asked incredulously, holding the book down in front of his granddaughter who was happily chewing on a teething ring as she sat inside her stroller. The baby responded by dropping the teething ring in her lap and blowing raspberries at her grandpa.

Lincoln laughed.

"Yeah, my sentiments exactly."

Lincoln fanned through the pages of the book shaking his head. It was a pretty decent sized book for an unauthorized biography and he wondered how much of the information was accurate. He briefly considered buying the book just to read it and find out, but quickly changed his mind. It would be a cold day in hell before he helped someone else profit from his families misery.

"Well…" Lincoln sighed, closing the book and examining the cover once again. "At least they used a good picture of Grandpa on the cover. What do you think Vee?"

He held the book out again for his granddaughter to inspect and she once again responded with a perfectly executed, wet raspberry.

Lincoln laughed.

"Something tells me I'm so going to regret having taught you to do that."

"Yeah well…wait till she does that with a mouthful of pureed peas." The familiar voice came from behind Lincoln. He quickly turned and was surprised to find Sara Tancredi standing there.

"Sara!" He exclaimed.

"Hi Lincoln." She replied with a friendly smile.

"Hey. What are you…? I mean…" Lincoln sputtered, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "It's good to see you."

"You too." Sara replied brushing a strand of hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "You look good. Freedom obviously agrees with you."

Lincoln smiled.

"Yeah well. It's good to be out…to be with my family."

Sara nodded, smiling.

"Speaking of looking good. You're looking as beautiful as ever." He informed her.

"Oh please." Sara scoffed, her facing turning scarlet with embarrassment.

"No. I'm serious. I like what you did with your hair. Looks good on you."

"Yeah. My subtle attempt at anonymity." She said with a chuckle as she ran her hands through her now shoulder length brown hair. "Unfortunately, it didn't work."

"Yeah… I uh… know the feeling." Lincoln replied, waving his unauthorized biography in the air.

"Oh my god!" Sara replied, feigning excitement, as she grabbed the book from his hands. "I've been dying to read this!"

"Ugh." Lincoln groaned. "Please tell me your joking."

"Of course." Sara replied tossing the book back onto the shelf in disgust. "Besides, I'm waiting for the autobiography."

"Oh yeah. I'll get right on that." Lincoln replied sarcastically.

Sara laughed before turning her attention to Veronica who by this point had grown tired of being ignored and shrieked with excitement as she tossed her plastic teething keys onto the floor.

"My goodness!" Sara smiled and knelt down beside the baby's stroller. "Did you drop your keys?"

"Oh yes. That's her new game." Lincoln informed her. "She chucks things on the ground and we pick them up."

"What fun!" Sara replied sarcastically, handing the keys back to the baby and tweeking her cheek playfully.

"Yep. Then they wind up right back on the floor again." Lincoln said, reaching down to grab the keys before Veronica could toss them again. "Here, play with this." He said, offering her a tiny stuffed toy that was securely attached to the stroller with plastic ring links.

"She's adorable." Sara said, standing back up.

"Yeah." Lincoln agreed. "She's a good girl."

"So…" Sara said, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her sweater. "How's Michael doing?"

Lincoln had wondered when she was going to ask. He was surprised it had taken her this long.

"He's OK. I guess." he replied with a shrug.

"You guess?"

"Well, you know Michael. He's hard to read. He says he's fine but…" Lincoln shook his head and stared down at the ground.

"Yeah." Sara said knowingly.

"I worry about him." Lincoln said sadly, raising his head to meet Sara's eyes.

"Of course you do."

"Have you seen him?"

"Just once. But he uh… asked me not to come back." She said sadly, turning her head to avert Lincoln's gaze once again.

"It's not you Sara." Lincoln insisted, gently reaching out to take her by the arm. "He still cares for you. I know he does. It's just hard for him…being in there. You know?"

"I know." Sara said.

"I mean…he's told me not come too." He informed her. "I just ignore him." He added with a playful smile.

Sara laughed at this.

"Well, that's a big brother's prerogative I guess."

"Yeah well, someone should tell Michael that because he still gets pissed as hell."

"Well, he's very lucky to have you Lincoln."

"He might disagree with you on that one." Lincoln replied

"No he wouldn't." Sara replied matter of factly. "You mean everything to him."

Lincoln contemplated this for a moment and had to frown. In his eyes, he was so undeserving of Michael's adoration.

"Listen…I should really get going." Sara said, after a moment of awkward silence.

"Well, it was good to see you." Lincoln replied. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime?" It was more of a request than a question.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Sara replied, hoisting her purse back onto her shoulder. "Tell Michael I said hello. OK? Tell him…Tell him that I miss him and I hope he's doing alright."

"I will."

"Good. I guess I'll se you around then." She smiled, and then turned to walk away.

"Hey Sara…" Lincoln called after her and when Sara turned back to face him he continued... "He uh…he's getting out soon."

"I heard. Eight months…that's great." Sara replied.

"Yeah well…Maybe…uh…Maybe things will be different then. Maybe you and he could…"

"Maybe." Sara replied, cutting him off. "You take care Lincoln."

"Yeah, you too." Lincoln replied then watched as Sarah hurried off and disappeared into the crowd.

"Oh" Lincoln groaned to himself. "Eight months kiddo. Just hang in there eight more months. She's waiting for you."

_STATESVILLE PRISON – LATER THAT SAME MORNING_

You OK? Hutch asked Michael as they walked toward the yard with the rest of the convicts from cell block B.

"Yeah…I'm fine." Michael replied with a weak smile as he shuffled along side Hutch in line.

"Cuz you don't look so good."

"I'm just tired." Michael replied, breaking away from the line as they entered the yard.

"Well, talk to the CO." Hutch said as he followed Michael toward the bleachers on the far side of the yard. "Ask 'em to take you back to your bunk so you can get some rest."

Michael smirked as he climbed the bleachers to take his normal position at the top.

"Yeah…I really don't think that's going to help." he replied as he seated himself on the top bench. Michael hadn't had a good night sleep in weeks and it was definitely starting to take it's toll on him. No matter how much he wanted it or how badly his body demanded it, his mind just wouldn't allow it.

"You need to sleep Michael." Hutch informed him, placing his foot on the lower bench and staring up at his younger cellmate.

"I know. I will. Eventually." Michael replied.

Hutch furrowed his brow at Michael's response. It was obvious he didn't believe him and he was visibly concerned.

"Seriously…don't worry about it." Michael said giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine."

"Yeah well…I've heard that before." Hutch reminded him, then added. "You want some company up there?"

Michael shook his head.

"Nah. You go on. I'm just gonna sit here for a bit."

Hutch nodded and began to walk away, glancing back over his shoulder at Michael as he made his way toward a group of inmates near the weight lifting area.. He knew that when Michael wanted to be alone, it was best to give him some space. But he never went far and always made sure he could see Michael from wherever he was in the yard. It was a necessary practice. He had learned that the hard way.

Michael sighed and looked out across the yard. It was a gorgeous spring morning and normally he enjoyed any opportunity to be outside of the confines of he dreary cell. But today was different. At this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be back in his cell, lounging on his bunk.

He sat there alone for most of the hour and passed the time doing mundane little tasks in his head. It was his way of trying to block out the steady stream of unwanted thoughts constantly racing through his mind. He'd count the links in the fence; or approximate the square footage of the yard by counting the steps of the guards walking along the perimeter fence. Most people would consider this an unusual and boring way to pass the time, but Michael found it relaxing.

He was actually starting to feel a little better, when a familiar voice snapped him back to reality.

"Well, well. Long time no see Scofield."

Michael whipped his head to the left and saw Callous Jones climbing up the bleachers toward him. Michael took a breath and felt his stomach lurch at the site of the man. He didn't know what his real name was. But "Callous" certainly fit him. A murderer and serial rapist, he ranked right up there with Theodore Bagwell as one of the most ruthless and revolting human beings Michael had ever come across during his time in prison.

"Did you miss me Precious?" Callous asked, with a smarmy grin as he placed his foot up on the bench beside Michael and leaned forward resting his hand on his own knee.

"Hardly." Michael replied turning away from him.

"Oh, now…I'm hurt Michael. Truly hurt." Callous said, shaking his head. "I mean…after all we've been through together."

Michael clenched his jaw and could feel the panic swelling inside him. He wanted to bolt from the bleachers as fast as he could but he knew that was exactly what Callous wanted. If there was one thing Michael had learned about this man, it was that he thrived on other people's fear and misery.

"Six months Precious." Callous continued. "That's a long time. An awful long time."

"Not long enough." Michael seethed.

"Oh but it is seeing as we have so Precious little time left together. I mean…you're outta here in what…eight, nine months?"

Callous stepped up and straddled the bench beside Michael.

"Back off." Michael warned, still not looking at the man.

"Or what?" Callous wondered aloud, inching even closer to Michael.

"Or I'll take a dive off the top of these bleachers right now and swear on a stack of bibles that you threw me." Michael shot back. Then turning to look Callous in the eyes he added. "Who do you think they're gonna believe?"

"Oh, I'd think twice about that Precious." Callous warned, grabbing Michael by the arm firmly and yanking him closer…his faux friendly tone now replaced by his usual intimidating snarl.

Michael attempted to stand, but Callous tightened his grip yanked him back down on the bench.

"In case you have forgotten…I am serving two life sentences without the possibility of parole so I am a man with absolutely nothing to lose."

"Good for you." Michael replied sarcastically, trying to remain calm.

"Bad for you." Callous informed him. "You see, I let you off easy last time Scofield."

"Easy?" Michael shot back increduosly.

"You were alive. Weren't you?" Callous replied. "You see. I liked you Scofield. I Liked you from the very beginning and I _thought_ you and I had an understanding. But then you had to go and run your mouth like you did…"

"I never said anything." Michael insisted.

"Sure you didn't."

Michael tried once again to stand up, but Callous once again pulled him down.

"I spent six month in the shu because of you Precious. If you think I'm going to just let that slide you are sorely mistaken."

"You touch me again and you'll wind up right back there." Michael reminded him.

Callous laughed and leaned in close to Michael.

"It would be worth it." he whispered menacingly into Michael's ear.

He was so close that Michael could feel the warmth of his breath and he quickly raised his shoulder and leaned to the right in an attempt to distance himself.

"But, I'm getting ahead of myself." Callous continued, leaning back once again. "I have no intention of going back to the shu. Not just yet anyway. You and I have a lot of catching up to do and not a whole lot of time to do it in. I wanna make your last few months in here memorable…for both of us."

"Hey!"

Michael and Callous turned and saw Hutch hustling toward them from the weight pile. While Callous was temporarily distracted, Michael seized the opportunity and jumped down from the top of the bleachers. He landed on his feet, but the lack of sleep had obviously taken its toll on him and he quickly toppled over.

"What the fuck are you doin' Callous?" Hutch demanded, as he grabbed Michael under the arms and hoisted him to his feet.

"Relax Papa Bear." Callous replied, rising to his feet and waving his hands in the air. "We were just talking. Ain't that right Precious."

"What the hell did he say to you Michael?" Hutch demanded, grabbing Michael by his already aching arm.

"Nothing." Michael replied, yanking his arm from Hutch's grasp.

"You stay the fuck away from him. I'm not going to tell you twice" Hutch warned Callous, then turned to follow Michael who was already heading off toward the safety of the weight pile.

"Or what?" Callous challenged, jumping down from the bleachers.

"Or what?" Hutch turned and headed back toward Callous. "I'll fuckin' show you what you sadistic piece of shit!"

"Leonard no!" Michael hollered and quickly raced to get between his cellmate and Callous. "Just forget about it!" he said placing his hands on Hutch's chest and pushing him back. "You want to get yourself thrown in the shu? Because that's exactly what he wants."

Hutch gave Callous and icy glare. He knew Michael was right. And although he'd gladly spend a few weeks in the shu for the opportunity to put Callous in his place, he knew that if he did so, there would be no one around to watch out for Michael. And that was _exactly_ what Callous wanted.

"Yard time is over cons. Line it up!" one of the COs yelled from entrance to the yard.

"Come on Hutch. Let's go." Michael said, tugging on his cellmates arm. "Now! Let's go!"

Hutch shot Callous one final warning glance before falling in behind Michael in the line of cons heading toward the entrance.

"So nice to have friends who are willing to look out for ya. Isn't it Precious?" Callous continued to taunt Michael as they headed back into the cell block. "I got friends too ya know. I got a whole lot of friends inside these walls. You best remember that boy."

To be continued


	17. Chapter 17

"I can't believe this." Hutch muttered to himself as he stared down at Michael in disbelief. "Safely locked up in our cell, with me sleeping 4 feet above him…_he_ can't sleep. But in a crowded cafeteria, with Callous sitting two tables away… he's out like a light!"

Hutch tilted his head, trying to see if Michael was in fact sleeping or just ignoring him. He had his elbows on the table, and his head resting on his hands, which were crossed in front of him. It didn't look very comfortable…but he was, in fact, asleep

Hutch frowned and dropped his tray onto the table.

Michael's head popped up and his eyes bugged out at the sound of the plastic tray crashing onto the metal tabletop. He whipped his head from side to side, looking around in a panic, ready to defend himself…until he finally noticed Hutch glaring down at him from where he stood across the table.

"Shit Leonard! Give me a heart attack why don't you?" Michael moaned, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Oh I'm sorry." Hutch replied sarcastically, taking a seat across from Michael at the table "Am I disturbing you?"

Michael ignored him as he continued rubbing his tired eyes.

"The cafeteria is not the place to be taking a catnap Michael."

"It wasn't intentional. Believe me." Michael replied sullenly.

"You gotta pull yourself together Kid." Hutch informed him. "You look like hell."

"Don't start with me. OK?"

"I will start with you!" Hutch shot back, raising his voice enough to attract the attention of the cons at the surrounding tables. "Listen…"he began again, this time lowering his voice " I'm just trying to help you out here Michael. You've been walking around here for over a week now looking like a fuckin' zombie from Night of the Living Dead and _everyone's_ noticed."

"Yeah, I'm sure they have." Michael seethed, shooting a hateful glance in Callous' direction.

"Hey! Forget him." Hutch admonished. "I'm talkin' to you now. You look at me."

Michael scowled at him as Hutch continued…

"Like I said, I'm just trying to help you out. If _they_ noticed…" he said, jerking his thumb toward the random cons behind him. "Don't you think Lincoln is going to?"

Michael sighed and buried his face in his hand.

"You keep bitchin' and moanin' about Lincoln constantly asking you questions…"

Michael could suddenly hear Lincoln's voice echoing through his mind. _"What's wrong Michael?" "Are you OK Michael?" "What happened Michael?"_

Hutch reached out and grabbed Michael's wrist, forcing his hand away from his face.

"You want him to stop asking questions…you gotta stop giving him reasons to ask Michael."

"You don't think I'm trying." Michael replied defensively.

"TRY HARDER." Hutch shot back, pounding Michael's hand into the tabletop for emphasis. "Cuz if you don't…I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time before he finds out."

Michael looked up at Hutch with a horrified expression on his face.

"He won't find out." Michael insisted.

"He's not stupid Michael."

"He _won't_ find out." Michael repeated shaking his head adamantly.

"He will figure it out Michael. If you don't stop this shit right now… he will figure it out.

Michael yanked his wrist free from Hutch's grasp and buried his face in his hands once again.

"He loves you Michael." Hutch continued. "He knows you better than anyone else and if you keep walking into visitation looking like you do right now…he's going to know something is wrong and he's not going to stop asking questions until he finds out what."

"Shit!" Michael moaned, leaning back in his chair and running his hands over his head in frustration. "You're right." He paused a moment before asking…"What day is it?"

Hutch frowned, but wasn't surprised Michael didn't know. It wasn't like Michael broke up his days with sleep or anything. The past week was probably all just one big blur to him.

"Tuesday." Hutch informed him.

"Visiting day." Michael realized.

"Yep." Hutch confirmed. "Which means you've got about 5 hours to get some food into your stomach and try to sleep away some of those bags from under your…"

He hadn't even completed his sentence before Michael sprang up from the table and started to hurry off.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Hutch shouted at him. "Where are you going?"

"You were right." Michael replied, briefly turning back to him. "I can't do this anymore. I have to make a phone call."


	18. Chapter 18

"Who was on the phone?" LJ asked his dad as Lincoln roughly brushed by him at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Michael." Lincoln replied tersely. "Where is Durst's phone number?"

"Um…in the kitchen. Why? What's wrong?" LJ asked, following his father as he quickly made his way to the kitchen.

"Where in the kitchen?" Lincoln demanded as he began rummaging through drawers, slamming them when he didn't find what he wanted.

LJ was a bit unnerved by his father's behavior, but decided it was best not to panic until he found out exactly what was going on.

"It's on the refrigerator." LJ informed him. "What happened?"

"Michael called." Lincoln told him, snatching the number off the door and picking up the cordless.

"I know." LJ replied impatiently. "You said that already. What did he want?"

"He called to tell me he doesn't want to see me." Lincoln said, dialing the phone as he spoke.

"So? Maybe he's not feeling well today. What's the big deal? You can see him next week."

"NO!" Lincoln shot back, holding the phone to his ear. "Not just today. He doesn't want to see me _at all_."

"Ever?"

"Not till he gets out."

"But that's eight months from now." LJ replied, stating the obvious.

"No shit Sherlock. Yes! Hello!"

Lincoln turned his back to his son and began pacing the floor nervously.

"Yeah…this is Lincoln Burrows. I need to speak with Durst. NOW."

LJ settled himself on a bar stool at the counter as he tried to absorb as much information as he could from the one side of the conversation he could hear.

"Well where the hell is he?" Lincoln bellowed into the phone. "This is an emergency. I need to speak with him about my brother." There was a pause as Lincoln rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that Durst wasn't immediately available. " I don't know what's wrong! That's why I need to fuckin' speak with Durst!"

LJ sighed and shook his head. His dad was not the most pleasant person to deal with when he was upset and he felt bad for whoever was on the receiving end of this phone call.

"I don't care if he's in fucking Timbuktu! Just get him on the damn phone!"

"Dad…" LJ began.

"Hello? Hello?"

Lincoln cursed again before clicking the phone off and tossing it onto the counter. LJ moved quickly to grab it before if slid off the other side.

"That Bitch fuckin' hung up on me!" He informed his son angrily.

"Well I don't blame her Dad. I mean seriously…you need to watch your mouth."

"Well, what part of 'this is an emergency' _doesn't_ she understand." Lincoln said, trying unsuccessfully to justify his language.

LJ sighed and brought his hands to his head. There really was no reasoning with his father when he was this upset. He looked back up at Lincoln who was once again pacing a hole in the floor and he wanted to tell him to sit the fuck down and calm himself, but he knew that probably wouldn't help.

"Dad…" LJ began in calm voice. "Would you please just calm down and tell me exactly what Michael said."

"I already told you!" Lincoln hollered back at him.

LJ opened his mouth to protest being yelled at, when the phone that he had place on the counter beside him began to ring. Lincoln lunged for it but LJ was quicker and closer to the handset. As Lincoln continued to grab for it, LJ smacked at his father with one hand, while fumbling for the on button with the other.

"Hello." LJ said, hopping off the stool and walking away from Lincoln.

"Why the hell are you cursing at my assistant!" the angry voice bellowed at him through the phone.

"Mr. Durst?"

"LJ?"

"Yeah."

"Jesus LJ." Durst sighed. "What the hell is going on there?"

"Uh…I'm not real sure. I'm actually trying to figure that out myself."

"Is that Durst?" Lincoln asked, charging toward him. "Give me the phone!"

"No!" LJ refused as he backpedaled away from him.

"Give me the phone now!"

LJ scowled angrily at his father and placed a hand over the phone receiver. He had tried his best to remain patient and calm but he had reached his limit.

"Listen!" he hollered back at his father. "This is _my_ fuckin' house and _my_ fuckin' phone! You got that? Now sit down and shut the fuck up before I _really_ lose my temper!!!"

Lincoln's jaw dropped and for a moment he was struck silent. LJ had never spoken to him that way before and it definitely shocked him. He opened his mouth the respond but LJ thrust his hand out and quickly cut him off.

"Don't fuckin' test me right now Dad!" he warned.

Lincoln closed his mouth and quickly sat down on the couch. He looked so much like a scolded child at this point that LJ quickly had to turn his back to him so that he wouldn't laugh in his face.

"OK. I'm back." LJ said to Durst who was still waiting patiently on the phone.

"Very nicely done LJ." Durst congratulated him.

"Thank you. He's driving me up a wall."

Lincoln scowled at him from his seat on the couch and folded his arms defiantly across his chest. But he didn't dare say another word.

"So what's going on?" Durst asked LJ once again.

"I don't know." LJ admitted. "All I know is that Michael called a little while ago and told Dad that he didn't want to see him."

"And _this_ is an emergency?" Durst exclaimed. "I gotta tell you LJ…your father gives a whole knew meaning to the term 'over dramatic'."

"No, you don't understand. Michael doesn't want to see him at all. Ever. Not until he's released." LJ explained.

"Oh…" was all Durst said.

"Yeah…and as you probably figured out by now…That went over like a fart in a phone booth."

Durst laughed.

"Oh LJ! You are just so eloquent at times. You now that?"

"Well, you get the point."

"Yeah. Listen…what exactly did Michael say? I mean…what happened? Did Lincoln say something or do something?"

LJ sighed. He really didn't want to go through this whole song and dance with is father again. But he really didn't have a choice. He once again lowered the phone and turned back to his dad.

"OK…I am going to ask you this one more time. And I want you to answer me calmly and clearly." LJ instructed. "Now…what exactly did Michael say to you?"

"He said he didn't want me to come to the prison any more to see him." Lincoln replied in a sarcastically slow and drawn out manner.

His sarcasm wasn't lost on LJ, but he decided it was in everyone's best interest if he just ignore it.

"Did he say why?" he asked his father.

"No." Lincoln insisted. "I asked him what was wrong and he got all pissy with me! He started hollering at me and said that I was driving him crazy! He said I ask too many questions and he's tired of it."

LJ decided against pointing out that the fact that if that _was_ indeed how the conversation went, then Michael had, in fact, given him a reason. Instead, he brought the phone back to his ear and asked Durst…

"Did you get that?"

"Yeah…I got it." Durst replied. "Listen LJ. Tell your dad that I am going to speak with Michael. But under no circumstances is he to call this office again until he hears from me. Do you got that?"

"Yes. Understood."

"His behavior today was absolutely inexcusable LJ. Make sure he understands that."

"Believe me." LJ said, glancing over at his defeated father. "I think he's got it."

"OK. You hang in there kiddo. I'll talk to you soon."

"OK. Bye."

LJ hung up the phone and placed it down on the coffee table.

"So what did he say?" Lincoln asked him.

"He said that he's going to talk to Michael and that you are not to call his office again until you hear from him. Oh…And he said your behavior was absolutely inexcusable."

Lincoln groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"He…just…you know, wanted me to make sure you understood that." LJ mumbled.

"Something is wrong LJ. I can feel it."

"You don't know that dad." LJ replied, sitting down on the coffee table in front of his father. "Michael's probably just in a mood today or something. Don't get yourself all worked up over nothing."

"It's not nothing." Lincoln said softly, his head still buried in his hands. "You haven't seen him LJ. These past few visits…he looks like hell. He's not the same Michael. Something is not right. _That's_ why he doesn't want to see me. He knows I know."

"What do you know?" LJ asked. "You don't know anything. Not yet. Just wait until we hear from Durst before you go spinning your wheels like this."

Lincoln remained silent, but LJ could tell he was crying.

"Dad…come on." He said, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his father's shoulder. "Just let it go for now. OK? Just forget about it."

"No." Lincoln replied, straightening up and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I made that mistake once. I won't do it again."

"What are you talking about it?" LJ exclaimed.

"I'm not going to turn a blind eye to Michael's problems again LJ." Lincoln insisted as he got up from the couch and headed toward the front door. "I won't do it. Not again."

To be continued…


	19. Chapter 19

_FLASHBACK 1989_

"God I missed you so much." Lincoln whispered as he brushed the silky brown hair from Veronica's neck and kissed her smooth skin seductively.

Veronica closed her eyes and tilted her head, allowing Lincoln easier access to trail his soft kisses down the nape of her neck.

"It's only been a few days." She reminded him.

"Do you have to leave soon?" he asked. It was nearing midnight and Lincoln knew oh too well how strict Veronica's father could be when it came to curfew.

"Nope."

"No?" Lincoln asked, pulling back from Veronica, looking both surprised and pleased.

Veronica smiled at him playfully and shook her head.

"Nope. I told my dad I was staying at Laura's tonight so he's not expecting me back until tomorrow.

"Ah…very sneaky." Lincoln replied.

"Well what can I say? I guess my dad's right. You're a bad influence on me." Veronica replied, straddling Lincoln's lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're bad behavior's starting rub off on me."

Lincoln groaned and wrapped his arms around Veronica's waist.

"Speaking of rubbing off…" he began as he pulled her close.

"Don't be gross." Veronica giggled, slapping him playfully.

Lincoln laughed.

"You started it!" he insisted.

"I did not." Veronica said, putting her hands on her hips in mock defiance.

"Did too. You're a big tease."

"Oh, I'm a tease am I?" Veronica asked, settling forward on her knees and rising up so she was looking down at Lincoln with her breasts right in his face.

Lincoln swallowed as he stared forward at Veronica's chest, a thin white t-shirt the only thing between him and her soft flesh.

"Oh yeah." He managed to gasp.

Veronica placed two fingers under Lincoln's chin and raised his head so he was now looking at her.

"Well…If you behave, maybe I'll let you tease me for change." She whispered.

"Oh, I'll tease you alright." Lincoln laughed and wrapped one strong arm around her tiny waist and easily whipped her down onto the couch beside him. Veronica let out an excited scream as Lincoln brought his face down to meet hers. But before his lips could connect with hers, Veronica quickly reached up and put her hand over his face.

"Lincoln!"

"What?" Lincoln gasped, shaking her hand off his face.

"We gotta be quiet." Veronica said, glancing over at the door to the bedroom Lincoln shared with his brother. "We're going to wake up Michael."

"So." Lincoln replied casually and leaned down for his kiss."

"What do you mean…So? Veronica replied, pushing him back once again.

Lincoln groaned and settled back onto the couch once more.

"Veronica, he's almost thirteen years old. OK? He's not an idiot. He knows we mess around."

"Well, he's never seen us and I prefer to keep in that way. Thank you very much." Veronica snapped at him as she sat herself up on the couch beside him.

"What do you want me to do Veronica?" Lincoln whined. "This is a two room apartment for cryin' out loud."

Veronica sighed and immediately felt guilty.

Lincoln had worked so hard and given up so much to be able to afford a suitable apartment for he and Michael to live in. Yes, it was small and lacked much privacy, but at least they were together and that was the important thing.

Lincoln began the process of getting Michael back as soon as he turned eighteen. The years spent in the foster care system had been torture for the both of them and they both dealt with it in very different ways. Michael, retreated within himself and the once curious and happy child, suddenly became quiet and withdrawn. Lincoln, on the other hand, rebelled. His behavior and total disregard for the rules resulted in the boys being moved around quite a bit. And eventually, they were separated when Lincoln wound up in a juvenile detention facility.

Lincoln spent a year in juvenile detention, and when he was finally released, Michael's foster family wouldn't take him, so he was sent to different family and stayed there until he turned eighteen. He dropped out of high school against his foster parents wishes, so that he could get a job, save enough money for an apartment, and get Michael back as soon as the state would allow.

Veronica hated that Lincoln had dropped out, but she supported his decision because she knew how much it meant to him to get Michael back. She was proud of how hard he had worked and his devotion to his baby brother only made her love him even more.

"I'm sorry baby." Veronica whispered, resting her head on Lincoln's shoulder. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

"No." Lincoln replied, shaking his head. "You're right. This fuckin' shoebox of an apartment sucks!"

"No it doesn't" she assured him. "It's great. This is _your_ place. And it sure beats the back seat of your car, which…let's face it. Is only other option right now."

Lincoln continued to sulk. Veronica leaned over and began kissing his neck softly.

"We can still have fun." She whispered. "We just have to be quiet."

Lincoln smiled again and pulled Veronica across his lap. They continued kissing as Veronica fell back onto the couch, pulling Lincoln down on top of her. But just when things started to get hot and heavy again, Veronica suddenly stopped.

"Did you hear that?" she asked him.

Lincoln sighed.

"Vee…you're being paranoid now."

"No seriously…" Veronica began, but was interrupted by Michael's blood curdling scream from the bedroom.

"Oh my god!" Veronica exclaimed.

"Michael!"

Lincoln was up and over the coffee table before Veronica even knew what was happening. She quickly followed him, making her way toward the bedroom door that Lincoln had already disappeared through. Once inside, she flicked on the light and immediately looked toward Michael's bed but he wasn't there. She then turned her attention to the corner of the room where Lincoln was already by Michael's side. The small boy was crouched in the corner, rocking back and forth, with his hands over his head, his knees tucked up under his chin.

"Michael?" Lincoln said quietly, reaching out to his brother.

Michael screamed when his brother's hand touched his shoulder and he began flailing his arms crazily as though trying to fend off some sort of attacker.

Lincoln looked horrified and briefly glanced up at Veronica, who could do little more than shake her head in disbelief. She had seen children have nightmares before, but nothing quite like this.

"Michael! Michael Stop!" Lincoln pleaded, grabbing Michael by both arms and shaking him. He wasn't trying to be rough…but he didn't know what else to do. Michael was obviously still asleep.

Michael finally stopped screaming and swinging and looked up at his brother.

"You're OK." Lincoln assured him. "It was just a dream."

Michael looked up a Lincoln and then to Veronica before falling forward into Lincoln's arms.

"Oh buddy…it's OK." Lincoln said pressing his lips into Michael's soft brown hair as the boy buried his face in his older brother's chest and began sobbing.

Veronica knelt down beside the brothers and Lincoln looked up at her.

"Is he OK?"

"I can feel his fuckin' heart pounding through his chest." He informed her before turning his attention back to Michael who was still shaking uncontrollably as he gasped for breath between choking sobs. "Come on Mikey. Relax. Please. You're scaring the shit out of me here."

Veronica reached out and began rubbing Michael's back.

"My God Lincoln. He's soaking wet!"

"Yeah, no kidding." He snapped at her. "It's sweat. Look I think there are some clean clothes in the basket at the end of my bed. See if you can find a t-shit or something."

Veronica nodded and made her way to the basket as Lincoln scooped his brother off the floor and carried him over to his bed.

"Shit! Lincoln, there's nothing in here but your stuff." Veronica said as she dug through the basket.

"Just bring me anything. I don't fuckin' care at this point if it fits him or not." Lincoln replied as he continued to rock Michael on his lap.

Veronica grabbed one of Lincoln's t-shirts from the basket and tossed it o him.

Michael had calmed down by this point and Lincoln was able to get the exhausted boy to stand on his own in front of him.

"Come on." he said softly, reaching out to get a grip on Michael's wet shirt. "Let's get this off you. Hands up."

Michael complied and Lincoln easily removed the wet shirt and replaced it with the one that Veronica had given to him. It was way to big on Michael, but at least it was dry.

"There. That's better." Lincoln commented. Then placing his hands on Michael's shoulders he asked him…"Do you wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?"

Michael shook his head.

"No? You don't want to talk about it? It might make you feel better."

Michael shook his head once more and Lincoln sighed.

"OK baby." He said, taking Michael's hand in his own. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Do you want me to stay here with you until you fall back to sleep?"

This time Michael nodded.

"OK." Lincoln replied, patting the bed. "Climb in." Then, turning to Veronica he added. "I'm sorry. Do you mind?"

"No, of course not." Veronica replied, smiling. "I'll wait for you in the living room."

"You're welcome to crash in my bed if you're tired." Lincoln offered as Michael settled himself back in bed.

"I'll be fine on the couch." Veronica assured him. She knew Michael needed his brother now more than she did. She was happy to give them their time alone.

"Good night Michael." She said as she clicked off the light on her way out the door.

Veronica had made herself comfortable on the couch. She had fully expected Lincoln to fall asleep in the bedroom with his brother and was surprised when he emerged from the bedroom a mere thirty minutes after she had left.

"Is he asleep?" she asked as she sat herself up on the couch and clicked off the television.

Lincoln nodded as he made his way toward the galley kitchen on the other side of the room.

"I think he fell asleep the minute you turned the light off." He informed her as he opened the fridge and retrieved a beer from the bottom shelf. "Poor kid was exhausted. But I didn't want to leave him until I was sure. You know?"

"Of course." Veronica said, pulling her knees up under her chin and brushing the hair back from her face.

"You want one?" Lincoln asked, holding out the beer bottle as he re-entered the living room.

Veronica wrinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head.

"I didn't think so." Lincoln replied with a chuckle.

He sat down on the couch next to Veronica and took a long swig of his beer.

"My god Lincoln. That was…frightening."

"Yeah. Tell me about it." Lincoln agreed, taking another swig of beer. "I don't know what's wrong with him. That's like the third time this week he's done that."

"Really?" Veronica was surprised and a bit frightened by his declaration. "Is it always that intense."

Lincoln shook his head.

"Nah. Not always." Lincoln replied. "It's probably just the stress of the move. You know…Michael doesn't handle change very well."

Veronica looked away and started fidgeting with her hands nervously. She had a feeling it was more than that. But she wasn't sure how to present her argument to Lincoln without upsetting him more.

"What?" Lincoln asked her. He knew Veronica well enough to know when something was on her mind.

"It's nothing…"Veronica began nervously. "It's just…well I think it might be more than that Lincoln. I mean…he went through a lot when the two of you were separated. That whole situation with his foster father…"

Lincoln groaned and threw his head back on the couch.

"Vee, please. I really don't want to get into this again."

"He was murdered Lincoln."

"I'm aware of that Veronica."

"Well doesn't it bother you at all the no one has been able to determine exactly what happened? I mean…my god…did Michael see that? Was he there? And what about the bruises?"

"Veronica please!" Lincoln said angrily, getting up from the couch and crossing the room to distance himself from her.

"Well why don't you ask him Lincoln? Why has no one asked him?" she demanded.

"I have!" Lincoln shouted at her then immediately glanced toward the bedroom door, realizing that Michael was still sleeping in the next room. "I have OK?" he insisted, lowering his voice significantly. "He doesn't want to talk about it."

"Well he needs to talk about it Lincoln." Veronica informed him angrily. "You didn't see him right after it happened. OK? I did. You were locked away in juvenile hall. _I_ was the one who had to deal with him when he showed up on my doorstep traumatized and unable to speak!"

"Are you _trying_ to piss me off Vee?" Lincoln snapped at her. "Cuz if you are, you're doing a hell of a job."

"I'm not trying to piss you off." Veronica replied. "I'm just trying to make you understand! Michael needs help."

"He'll be fine."

"How can you say that? You don't even know what's going on inside his head because you won't talk to him about it."

"How many time do I have to tell you Veronica? He doesn't want to talk about it. And I'm not going to force him. OK? I won't do that."

Veronica sighed and folded her arms across her chest.

"Is this really about what he wants or is this about you?" she asked him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped at her.

"Well, what are you really afraid of Lincoln? Michael getting upset because you've forced him to talk about something he doesn't want to? Or are you afraid of what Michael might tell you. To be honest … I don't think you _want_ to know the truth."

Lincoln glared at Veronica as he downed the remainder of his beer. But he said nothing so Veronica continued…

"Come on Lincoln. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that it doesn't scare the hell out of you when you think of all the horrific things Michael might reveal to you if you really pushed him for the truth."

Lincoln glared at Veronica one final time before disappearing back into his bedroom and closing the door.

"Yeah." Veronica replied softly. "That's what I thought."

_END OF FLASHBACK_

_PRESENT_

"You were right Veronica." Lincoln said softly as he sat at Veronica's grave site and traced his finger along her name that was etched in the smooth marble of her headstone. "I _was_ afraid. I was so fuckin' afraid."

Lincoln looked up at the sky and briefly wondered if Veronica could hear him. He certainly hoped so, because he really needed her to hear what he had to say.

"Michael finally did tell me what happened by the way. Of course, it only took 18 fuckin' years and government conspiracy to drag it out of him. But…whatever. The point is you were right…it was horrible."

He let out a manic little laugh and shook his head as he began picking the weeds away from the flowers planted in front of her headstone.

"I shouldn't be surprised…" he continued. "You were right about a lot of things. It's just too bad I didn't realize that sooner. I could have saved us all a lot of grief. Huh?"

He tossed the last of the weeds aside and brushed his hands on his jeans.

"Anyway…I just wanted you to know that I'm not going to make that mistake again. There's something going on with Mike right now and I don't know what it is. And I know you are up there watching over us and you're probably screaming at me because I haven't figured it out yet. But I _am_ trying Vee. I promise you that. I'm trying and I won't stop this time until I do. I won't disappoint you again."

Lincoln sighed and brushed the tears that were now trickling down his cheek with the back of his hand.

"Well…I should get going because I know that LJ's probably freaking out right about now." He informed her. "But…I uh…just wanted you to know that I love you. And I miss you…so much."

Lincoln kissed his fingers and then gently pressed his hand to Veronica's headstone.

"By baby. I love you."

To be continued…


	20. Chapter 20

_FLASHBACK 1991_

"You sure want this? Lincoln asked holding a plastic cup out for Michael.

"What is it? Michael asked, wrinkling his nose as he stared down at the brown liquid inside the cup.

"Rum and coke. Do you want it or not?" Lincoln replied sounding a bit annoyed.

"What's it taste like?" Michael wondered aloud. He'd obviously had coke before, but rum…never. Lincoln normally didn't allow it. Or allow _him_ anyway. But tonight was a special occasion.

"It tastes like rum…and coke." Lincoln's friend Derek sneered sarcastically from the table in the dining area of the boy's small apartment.

"Derek. Cool it." Lincoln admonished before turning his attention back to Michael. "You'll like it. Trust me."

Looking apprehensive, Michael raised the cup to his mouth and took a sip.

"Mmm…It's good." He said sounding both surprised and pleased.

"Told ya." Lincoln laughed and slapped his brother's arm playfully.

"Aren't you gonna have any?" Michael asked him.

"Oh, hell no!" Lincoln's friend Brody interjected. "We brought something special for the birthday boy."

Brody offered Lincoln a shot glass, which he happily accepted.

"Happy Birthday buddy."

"Bottoms up." Lincoln said cheerfully, clinking his glass with Brody's. And as Michael watched curiously, the older boys downed the contents of their glasses in one quick gulp.

"Oh man!" Lincoln coughed, then quickly chased the shot down with a swig of beer. "That shit fuckin' burns!"

"I know." Brody agreed. "Good stuff."

"What is it?" Michael asked.

"Never mind." Lincoln said, placing his shot glass on the counter for Brody to refill.

"Can I try it?"

"NO!!!" the three older boys replied in unison.

Michael shrugged and took a seat at the table with Derek. The fact that Lincoln was letting Michael drink and hang out with his friends at all was a minor miracle and Michael wasn't about to push his luck.

"So Linc, how does it feel to twenty-one?" Derek asked as he nonchalantly whipped out a joint and lit it up.

"I dunno." Lincoln replied, slamming his shot glass down on the counter after finishing his second shot. "Should I feel any different?"

"Of course! You're twenty-one." Michael reminded him. "You can do whatever you want now."

Lincoln gave Michael and incredulous smirk as he took another sip of his beer.

"Well, within reason of course." Michael added. "At least you can drink whatever you want now."

Derek laughed out loud at this.

"Yeah, because he _always_ let being underage stop him from drinking whatever he wanted."

"Good point." Michael agreed. "Well, at least you can't get in trouble for it anymore."

"Yeah. That's one less thing I suppose." Lincoln replied.

"Unfortunately, that is just one of a very long list of things you're brother could get in trouble for." Derek pointed out, blowing pot smoke directly in Michael's face for emphasis.

Michael coughed and turned his face away as Lincoln frowned and took a seat beside Michael at the table.

"Are we playing or not?" He asked the group. Then turning his attention to Derek he added, "You blow that shit in my brother's face again and I'll make you put it out."

"Ooh…sorry Dad." Derek joked.

"I fuckin' serious man. I mean it."

"Linc, it's OK. It doesn't bother me." Michael lied.

He wasn't unfamiliar with pot. Lincoln smoked it all the time. It wreaked and Michael hated it. But tonight was Lincoln's birthday. He could have gone out and celebrated this milestone like every other twenty-one year old in America by hitting the bars and getting trashed. But Lincoln declined the invitation of his friends in order to spend his birthday with Michael. The last thing Michael wanted was for Lincoln to piss off the only two friends who were willing to forego a night on the town in order to stay home and play card games with his little brother.

"What are we playing?" Michael asked as Brody took a seat at the table and began shuffling the cards.

"Asshole." Brody replied.

"It was just a question." Michael shot back defensively.

"No you moron!" Brody laughed. "That's what we are playing. Asshole…it's a game."

"Oh" Michael replied, turning red with embarrassment. "I don't know how to play."

"It's easy. We'll teach you." Lincoln assured him.

'Yeah trust me. This game requires very little skill." Brody added.

"Then why play?" Michael asked.

He was totally serious, but for reasons unbeknownst to Michael, the older boys found his question extremely funny and began busting up with laughter.

"Michael…"Lincoln said, trying to catch his breath after laughing so hard. "I love you kid but…you really are a geek. You know that?"

"What? What did I say?" Michael asked desperately.

"Never mind." Lincoln replied, ruffling Michael's hair playfully.

Michael shrugged and took another sip of his drink. He still didn't understand what was so funny about his question. But he gave up trying and decided that it must be the pot. If there was one thing Michael had learned from his brother's pot smoking habit, it was that people seemed to find everything extremely funny when they were high.

"I talked to Gina." Brody informed the group as he dealt the cards around the table. "She and couple of her friends were going to be hittin' a few of the bars downtown tonight. She said we can meet up with them if we want."

Lincoln considered this for a moment as he picked up his cards and began organizing them in his hand.

"Nah. Not tonight man." he finally replied.

"Oh come on!" Derek protested. "It's your twenty-first birthday. You gotta go out!"

"Why? It's not like I've never been to a bar before."

"Look…we can sneak the kid in if that's what your worried about?" Brody offered, waving his hand in Michael's direction.

"Don't be stupid. Michael is not going to bar. He's fifteen years old."

"It's OK Linc." Michael spoke up. "You can go. I don't mind staying here."

"I don't want to go." Lincoln replied.

"Really." Michael replied, lowering his voice and leaning in close to Lincoln. "I don't mind. It's you're birthday. I want you to have fun."

"I _am_ having fun. Michael…I thought we agreed you and I were going to celebrate my birthday together."

"Well we did but…"

"But nothing. I'm where I want to be. OK?" He said, flashing his little brother a sincere smile.

"OK." Michael replied and smiled back.

He smiled because he truly believed Lincoln meant what he said. He smiled because for the first time, in a long time, Michael no longer felt like a burden to his older brother. He felt like his friend.

_PRESENT_

It was strange, Michael thought, that on the day when he all but cut Lincoln out of his life for the next eight months, he remembers one of the few times that Lincoln had openly and unselfishly allowed him into his. It was strange, but somehow comforting.

For months… years even, Michael's thoughts had been plagued with painful memories and feelings of guilt. Now, as he lay in his bunk and stared up at the pictures of his family neatly and carefully tucked into the wire frame of the bunk above him, he finally had a reason to smile.

It had been hard making the phone call to Lincoln that morning. He knew it would be. But he also knew it was something he had to do. It was the best thing to do…for both of them. And when it was done, Michael felt like a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

It had been so hard facing Lincoln week after week, avoiding his questions and trying to pretend that everything was alright. It was damn near impossible and it was obvious by Lincoln's reactions that he was failing miserably at it. Hutch was right. If he wanted Lincoln to stop asking him questions, he had to stop giving him a reason. If Lincoln couldn't see Michael…and see the pain, anxiety and shame that was apparently written all of his face, they were both better off.

Of course, he would still speak with Lincoln. There was no way he could go eight months without speaking with him. He couldn't do it and Lincoln couldn't do it. But at least now, he was in control again. He could hang up the phone when Lincoln asked too many questions and he didn't have to worry about appearing physically and mentally stronger than he was.

Michael sighed and rolled onto his side pulling the rough prison issue blanket up close to his chin. He was exhausted and for the first time in weeks, he finally felt as though he could sleep peacefully, even if it was only for a short while. With the rest of the inmates in the yard for the next hour and half, the cellblock was unusually quiet and Michael immediately felt himself start to relax and drift off.

He was almost asleep when he heard the tap, tap, tap of CO Johnson's baton on the bars of his cell.

"Scofield."

Michael rolled and raised himself up on one arm.

"No yard time for me today Boss." Michael informed him. "I'm not feeling so great. CO Lewis said it was OK."

"I know." Johnson replied. "That's not why I'm here. You got a visitor."

Michael groaned and fell back onto his bunk.

"If it's my brother, tell him to go home."

"It's not your brother. It's your lawyer."

"Durst?"

"You got another lawyer?" Johnson replied with a chuckle.

"No." Michael replied, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hand. "Listen, can you just…make him go. I'm really not in the mood right now for visitors. I just want to sleep."

"I know but…"

"I just want to sleep!" Michael repeated, covering his face with his arms. "Is that too much to fuckin' ask?"

CO Johnson stood there for a moment. He was pretty sure that was a rhetorical question and he didn't want to upset Michael any more by responding. He liked Michael. Surprisingly, most of the other COs did as well. Despite what happened at Fox River, Michael very rarely gave them any trouble and most were sympathetic of all he'd been through.

"Listen…" the CO began cautiously. "If I thought I could make the guy go home without him raising a huge stink I would. But the guy is determined. Just go talk to him. Alright?"

"Fine!" Michael conceded, angrily throwing back the blanket and rising off his bunk.

"Open 17!" Johnson hollered as Michael made his way to the front of the cell.

"I'm so fuckin' tired. You have no idea." Michael said as he stepped out onto the tier beside the CO.

"I know." Johnson replied sympathetically. "Just go see what he wants. Make it fast. And you'll be back in your bunk, asleep in no time."

Michael chuckled at this as he rubbed his tired eyes once more.

"Yeah right." He groaned. "Something tells me this is not going to be a quick or pleasant conversation."

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

William Durst sighed as he paced impatiently in front of the window in the private visitation room of Statesville Prison. It had been several weeks since he had last seen Michael Scofield and he was anxious to see him. Prior to Lincoln's release, he had made it a priority to see Michael at least once a week. It was his way of looking out for the boy, whom he had grown to care about like a son. But now that Michael had his brother back, he thought it was a bit intrusive. After all, Lincoln had looked after Michael his entire life. He knew the boys would call if they needed him and that was exactly what Lincoln had done.

Michael was refusing to see his brother and Lincoln was not taking it well at all. His obscenity laced conversation with Durst's assistant earlier that morning had certainly angered the veteran laywer. But once he got over his anger, he was sympathetic to Lincoln's situation and extremely concerned about Michael.

Durst heard the door to the visitation room open and turned to see Michael being escorted into the room by a guard.

"You have one hour." The guard informed the men before closing the door and leaving the two alone in the room.

Michael didn't even acknowledge Durst when he entered the room. He simply trudged over to the table, with his head down and took a seat.

Durst took one look at Michael and frowned.

"Well, I can clearly see why Lincoln is so upset. You look like hell Michael."

"Nice to see you too." Michael replied sarcastically.

"What happened?" Durst asked sliding out a chair and taking a seat across from Michael at the table.

"Nothing." Michael said, finally raising his head to make eye contact with his lawyer. "I told Linc that I would prefer it if he didn't come to see me anymore and he got pissed off."

"Yeah…that much I know." Durst replied.

"So why are you here then?" It was a stupid question. Michael knew that. But he was exhausted and his patience was wearing thin.

"Are you kidding me Michael?" Durst said, leaning across the table to get right in Michael's face. "You're brother is very upset. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Lincoln overreacts. He always has. That's his problem." Michael countered.

"Well, normally I'd agree with you. But now that I'm here and I'm looking at you…I don't think he's overreacting at all."

Michael sighed as he rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.

"Michael…" Durst said quietly, reaching across the table to gently pull Michael's hand from his face. "Come on son…tell me what's going on?"

"It's better this way. Trust me." Michael insisted.

"Better for who?" Durst asked, raising his voice.

"For both of us." Michael shot back. "I can't go on like this and neither can Lincoln."

"Go on like what?" Durst persisted. "Michael…you waited so long to be reunited with your brother. You couldn't wait to see him. What happened? What changed?"

"I don't know!" Michael shouted, slamming his fist onto the table. "I just…I didn't think it would be this hard. OK?"

"Seeing your brother is hard?"

"Yes! I mean…no! I mean… you don't understand!" Michael wailed, bring his hands to his head in frustration once again.

"So take a breath, calm down, and explain it to me." Durst replied calmly. "Listen Michael…I'm on your side here. OK? If you don't want to see Lincoln, that's fine. I'm not going to force you. But I have to be able to explain this to Lincoln."

"He asks too many questions." Michael explained, lowering his hands once again so Durst could clearly see the anguish in his eyes. "I just want to forget and he's making it so damn hard."

"Michael what exactly are we talking about here?"

There were so many things in Michael's life that _anyone_ would want to forget and Durst knew that if he was going to help Michael, he had to know what exactly it was he was talking about. But Durst also knew that Michael was constantly struggling with the memories of his past. It could be anything or it could be everything. With Michael, you just never knew.

Michael slid his chair back and got up from the table, turning his back to Durst.

"Michael?"

"Callous …"Michael began in a shaky voice.

"What about Callous?" Durst demanded. The mere mention of the man's name was enough to make his blood boil.

"He's back in gen pop." Michael informed him.

"What?" Durst got up from the table and quickly crossed the room to where Michael was standing. "When?"

"Two weeks ago." Michael replied, walking away from him.

Durst took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

"Michael…has he touched you?"

Michael, who still had his back to Durst, shook his head.

"Has he threatened you?"

Michael let out a manic little chuckle and finally turned to face his lawyer.

"Of course. The man spent six months in solitary confinement because of me."

"No. The man spent six months in solitary confinement because he is a sadistic asshole!"

"Well, he doesn't quite see it that way." Michael informed him.

"OK." Durst said, nodding his head. "It'll be fine. I'll just talk to the Warden and we'll have you placed in Ad Seg this afternoon."

"No!" Michael replied, shaking his head. "No way."

"Michael, it's the only way to keep you safe!"

"No!" Michael insisted. "You do that and Lincoln is going to know something is up."

"He already knows something is up Michael! Why the hell do you think I'm here!"

"He doesn't know anything! And that's the way it's going to stay!" Michael hollered at him.

"That's what this is all about. Isn't it? You're afraid your brother is going to find out what Callous did to you."

"I'm not going to Ad Seg and I'm not going to see Lincoln. This conversation is over." Michael informed him and headed toward the door.

"Michael wait. Come on…please. Just hold on a second." Durst pleaded, reaching out to take Michael's arm.

Michael sighed and closed his eyes, but made no movement to break free from Durst's grasp.

"Just let me get you into Ad Seg. OK? We don't even have to tell Lincoln you're there."

Michael considered this for a moment.

"William, have you ever been locked by yourself in a small, confined area? Locked all alone in a room with nothing but your memories and personal demons?" Michael finally asked in a cool and casual tone.

"No I haven't." Durst admitted.

"Well I have." Michael snapped at him. "And I'd rather Callous kill me than have to endure that again."

Durst frowned and quickly turned his back to Michael. He was so frustrated and he didn't want to get angry, but he could feel it building. He took a moment to compose himself before turning back.

"OK Michael fine. You win. No Ad Seg." Durst conceded. "And you're obviously tired and upset so I'm going to let this go for now. But I need you to do something for me."

"What?" Michael asked, sounding annoyed.

"Let me talk to Lincoln."

Michael grimaced and turned away.

"Just let me talk to him Michael. Explain to him what happened."

Michael started to shake his head.

"You said it yourself Michael. He's already knows something is wrong. It will be better this way."

"How do figure?" Michael shot back.

"Well for starters, Lincoln won't have to wonder any more Michael. _That's_ what's killing him Michael. Knowing something is wrong but not knowing what it is."

"And you think knowing the truth will make him feel better?" Michael asked him. He wasn't yelling anymore and he didn't seem angry. He just wanted Durst 's honest opinion.

"Not at first. No." Durst admitted. "But it's impossible to deal with the unknown Michael. And that's what your asking Lincoln to do right now. He _will_ deal with this. I have faith in him Michael and I would think by now you would too."

"I do have faith in my brother William." Michael informed him as he turned back and banged on the door to get the attention of the guard. "I always have. And despite what you may think…I trust you and I trust your judgment. You do what you think is right."

"If you don't want me to Michael, just say the word." Durst replied as the guard opened the door and Michael began to exit.

"Just do what you think is right." Michael responded without looking back.


	22. Chapter 22

"Have a seat Lincoln. William is on the phone. He will be with you in a minute."

Lincoln gave Durst's assistant a timid smile before obediently taking a seat in the closest chair. He drummed his fingers nervously on his leg before glancing back up at Mrs. Tamworth, who had resumed her typing. She, in turn, acknowledged his stare with a tilt of her head and the raising of her brow and Lincoln immediately looked away.

It was obvious that she was still a little put out with him for his behavior the day before and Lincoln could hardly blame her. She was the sweetest woman, normally very warm and nurturing. Now in her early seventies, she could have retired years ago, but chose stay with William Durst when he made the move from the busy Chicago Law firm he had once worked at with Veronica, to the more relaxed and intimate atmosphere of his own private practice.

Durst probably would have retired himself by now had it not been for Lincoln in Michael. He was determined to see them both through their incarcerations and he, along with Mrs. Tamworth, had been a constant source of support to both men for the past 5 years. Which is why Lincoln regretted his behavior they day before so much.

The soft ring of Mrs. Tamworth's phone caught Lincoln's attention and he looked back up in time to see the her pick up the phone.

"Yes." She said and then paused before replying. "Yes, he just got here a minute ago. I'll send him in."

She hung up the phone and turned her attention back to Lincoln.

"OK Lincoln. You can go in now." She informed him.

Lincoln nodded, rose from his chair and headed toward the office door.

"Oh and Lincoln… Be a dear and try to control your language this time." Mrs. Tamworth suggested.

"Yes M'am." Lincoln replied, turning red with embarrassment.

"You may be a grown man and I _know_ I'm an old woman, but I'm not adverse to dragging you into the bathroom and washing your mouth out with soap if need be. Heck, I'd turn you over my knee and spank your bottom blue but you're a big boy and I have a bad hip."

Lincoln had to bite his lip and look down at the floor to stop himself from smiling. She was dead serious. He knew that. But only a woman her age could get away with saying something like that and being taken seriously.

"Yes M'am." He repeated. "I'm uh…you know…sorry about my behavior yesterday."

"I know." She replied. Then folding her arms across the desk and leaning toward him she added. "He loves you boys you know."

"Yeah." Lincoln agreed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shifting his attention back down to the floor. He knew she was right. But it was something he wasn't used to and it made him a little uncomfortable. He was so used to being a father figure to Michael and LJ, but he had never really had one himself. Not since he was a small child.

"Well, just try to keep that in mind from now on OK?"

"I will." Lincoln assured her.

"Alright. William is waiting. Why don't you go on in."

Lincoln nodded and turned toward the office door. He knocked once and then walked in.

"Lincoln." Durst said, rising from his chair to greet him. "Come on in."

Durst was cordial enough, but Lincoln could tell by his demeanor that he wasn't happy and he was apprehensive about what Durst was going to tell him.

"Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?" Durst offered.

"I could use a beer." Lincoln joked half-heartedly.

"Yeah. You and me both." Durst replied. "Have a seat."

Lincoln did as he was told and took a seat across from Durst at his desk.

"So…" Lincoln began as he nervously wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. "I take it you talked to Michael."

"I did." Durst replied.

"Did he tell you what's going on? Did he tell you what's wrong?"

Durst set his elbows on the desk and folded his hands in front of him.

"He did." He said in a serious tone that sent chills down Lincoln's back.

Lincoln frowned and shook his head.

"It's not good. Is it?"

"No, it's not good." Durst conceded. "Nothing about Michael's situation is good. But it's nothing we can't handle."

"When did it happen?" Lincoln asked him calmly.

The question caught Durst off guard and he settled back in his arm chair and shook his head.

"I'm sorry? What?"

"Well, you were about to tell me my little brother was raped. Right?" Lincoln replied.

Durst was momentarily speechless. But Lincoln could tell by the look on his face that he was correct.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"You knew?"

Lincoln smirked.

"No. I didn't know. Not for sure anyway. But I uh…I know my brother."

Lincoln got up from his chair and quickly turned his back to his lawyer. The reality of what he had just said was finally starting to hit him and he didn't want Durst to see the tears that were now brimming in his eyes.

"I knew something was wrong." Lincoln continued. "I've known that for along time. I was just…Um…you know… hoping it wasn't that."

"He's going to be OK Lincoln." Durst assured him.

"When did it happen?" Lincoln repeated, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

"Six months ago." Durst replied. "Lincoln, he's going to be OK. He's been dealing with this a long time now and he's been OK."

"Then what changed?" Lincoln demanded to know, turning back to face Durst.

"Sit down Lincoln. Please. You are getting yourself all worked up and I don't want you to…" Durst stopped himself. "Just sit down. OK?"

Lincoln scowled and turned his back to Durst once more. He wanted to bolt from the office and go straight to Michael. But he knew that wasn't an option. Reluctantly, he turned back and took his seat once again.

"So what changed?" Lincoln asked once again. "You said Mike was doing OK. So what happened? Why is he so upset now? Is it me?"

"No." Durst said adamantly. "It has nothing to do with you. Other than the fact that you were starting to notice his anxiety and asking him too many questions."

"So what is it then?"

"The Con that assaulted your brother, was in solitary confinement for six months because of what he did."

"Was?"

"He was released back into Gen Pop two weeks ago." Durst informed him.

"Back into Gen Pop with Michael?"

Durst nodded.

"Jesus." Lincoln moaned as he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. " Has he…?"

"No." Durst replied before Lincoln could finish. "But there have been threats. And this guy is already serving two life sentences so he has absolutely nothing to lose. He _will_ make a move on Michael. It's just a matter of when."

"Well we have to do something!" Lincoln exclaimed. "Michael only has eight months left on his bid. I am not going to lose him now!"

"I know. I have no intention of letting anything happen to Michael." Durst informed him.

"Can you get him moved to Ad Seg?" Lincoln asked.

"Well that's what I told Michael I would do. But he doesn't want me to?"

"Why the hell not?"

"He's afraid." Durst informed him. "He can't handle the solitude. And you and I both know what happens when Michael thinks too much."

"But Michael can't survive in Gen Pop by himself." Lincoln insisted.

"He's not by himself…at least not in his mind. He has his cellmate, a con by the name of Leonard Hutchinson. Michael trusts him."

"Have you met this guy?" Lincoln asked.

"I have."

"And?"

"And he's a decent guy."

"If he's so decent, what's he doing in prison?" Lincoln wondered aloud.

"What were you doing in prison? What is Michael doing in prison?" Durst shot back. "He made some mistakes Lincoln and he's paying for those mistakes. But he cares about Michael and he's gotten him through some pretty serious shit."

" So, you think he can protect Michael?"

"He'd certainly try. But he's just one man and as much as he wants to…no, I don't think he can protect Michael."

"So what now?"

"I told Michael that I wouldn't have him put in Ad Seg. And Michael trusts me."

"So where does that leave us?" Licoln asked, clearly exasperated.

"Oh, I'm putting him into Ad Seg. I was on the phone with the Warden right before you came in. He's arranging for Michaels' transfer as we speak."

"But you just said…"

"I know what I said. I told Michael what he wanted to hear to keep him calm."

"He's not going to be real calm when he finds out you lied to him." Lincoln reminded him.

"I know." Durst agreed. "But I can deal with an angry Michael. I can't deal with a dead one."

Lincoln nodded. He knew Durst had made the right decision. But there was one thing that was still bothering him.

"So Michael goes to Ad Seg? Then what? He can't handle eight months in there. You said so yourself. He can't handle solitude like that. His mind will start racing. He'll go crazy."

"I have not intention of letting Michael spend eight months in there. Which is why I'm petitioning the DOC for an early release."

"On what grounds?" Lincoln asked.

"Michael's life is in danger. He's been assaulted and threatened in General Population and he's a danger to himself in Ad Seg. Due to the controversial nature of his case, the last thing they want is for Michael Scofield to die while in their custody."

"What about a transfer?" Lincoln offered.

"To where? Fox River? You and I both know they won't do that."

"What about out of State?"

Durst shook his head.

"I don't think so. Like I said, Michael's case is very controversial. I don't think any other state will want to take him. No, I've been given this a lot of thought and I think this is going to work."

"So Michael's going to be coming home?"

Lincoln could hardly believe it. A few minutes ago he felt like his whole world had come crashing down on him. He thought he was going to lose his brother forever. Now, Durst was telling him Michael could be coming home.

"Michael's coming home?" Lincoln repeated, looking directly into Durst's eyes and making no attempt this time to hold back the tears that had now begun to stream down his face.

Durst smiled.

"I think so Lincoln. With any luck, hopefully we'll have Michael back home with you by this time next week.

To be continued…


	23. Chapter 23

Michael leaned over the small stainless steel sink and splashed cool water on his face. He was sweating and could feel his heart racing. This was a futile attempt to cool himself down and calm his nerves. It wasn't helping much.

"So that's it?" Hutch asked from the top bunk where he sat, watching Michael. "Your lawyer is just going to tell Lincoln the truth."

"Looks like." Michael replied, picking up the worn hand towel hanging beside the sink and drying his face.

"And you're OK with that?" Hutch replied, sounding skeptical.

"Not really." Michael admitted, tossing the damp towel aside and leaning against the wall. "But it's not like a really had a choice."

"You always have a choice Michael." Hutch informed him, leaning forward and staring down at his cellmate.

"No, I didn't." Michael shot back tersely. "It was either let Durst tell him or let Lincoln suffer with the uncertainty. I couldn't do that to him anymore."

"So now what? You going to see him?"

Michael shook his head.

"No."

"Might be good for you." Hutch offered. "Might be good for you both."

Michael shook his head again, walked over to his bottom bunk and sat down.

"I can't even think about that right now. All I wanna do is close my eyes and sleep."

"You can't sleep the next eight months away Michael." Hutch reminded him.

"Believe me…" Michael chuckled as he fell sideways onto his pillow and swung his legs onto the bed. "…the way I feel right now I could probably sleep the next eight _years_ away."

Hutch laughed.

"Alright kiddo. I can take a hint. I'll shut up now and let you get some sleep."

"Thank you." Michael mumbled, his eyes already closed.

Michael wasn't sure how long he had been asleep before he heard his name being called and opened his eyes to see three Correctional Officers standing outside his cell.

"Open 18!" CO Bennett yelled out and as Michael sat up and rubbed his tired eyes, the door to his cell slid open and Bennett stepped inside.

Michael was on good terms with most of the COs and Bennett in particular, was one of the officers he was most comfortable with. He was a friendly enough and genuinely seemed to empathize with Michael's situation. Michael had never given him trouble and in return, Bennett had always treated him with courtesy and respect. But the fact that Bennett was now standing inside his cell, accompanied by two other COs, did alarm Michael a bit. And apparently, he wasn't alone.

"What's going on?" Michael heard Hutch ask from the bunk above. "What's wrong?"

Bennett appeared a bit apprehensive, but forced a smile nonetheless.

"Nothing is wrong Leonard." Then turning his attention to Michael he added. "Hey, Scoffield. How you doing kid?"

Michael slid his legs over the side of his bunk and sat himself up.

"I'm fine." Michael replied sounding a bit nervous. "What's going on?"

Bennett glanced back at the other COs before turning back to Michael.

"We uh…we just got a call from the Warden. He'd like us to move you to Ad Seg."

"What?" Michael said angrily as he quickly stood to face the CO.

"What for?" Hutch demanded, leaning forward on his bunk.

"Calm down fellas. This was not my decision. OK? Don't shoot the messenger."

"I'm not going." Michael replied, shaking his head and walking to the far wall of the cell to distance himself from the CO.

"Michael, you have to go. OK? Now grab what you want and we'll get the rest of your stuff later."

"Why?" Michael demanded. "Why do I have to go?"

"Because the Warden said so." Bennett shot back. "They don't think you are safe here. So you gotta go."

"Who's they?" Michael asked.

"Your lawyer and brother apparently. And the Warden agrees."

Michael shook his head furiously and his face reddened with anger as he pressed his back firmly into the wall

"No! No! He told me I didn't have to go."

"Scoffield, please don't turn this into a situation. OK?" Bennett pleaded. "You can fight this out with your lawyer and Warden tomorrow. But for now, you have to go."

Hutch looked down nervously at his cellmate, realizing that the situation was about to escalate into a bad one. Michael was visibly distraught. He had closed his eyes and he was breathing rapidly as he banged his head a few times on the concrete wall behind him. The other COs, who until this point had remained out on the tier, now stepped into the cell and were ready to assist Bennett in taking Michael by force if need be.

"Michael!" Hutch called out to him, leaning off the top bunk, "Michael! Listen…just go. Alright. It'll be fine."

Michael opened his eyes and quickly darted over to the opposite wall closest to Hutch, wedging himself between the toilet and the bunks. He grabbed onto the iron bed post and looked up at older man with fear and desperation in his eyes.

"He lied to me!" Michael said desperately.

"I know. I know." Hutch replied, grasping onto Michael's hand in an attempt to calm him. "But it'll be OK."

The officers were now getting nervous now and Hutch noticed Bennett pull a tazer from the holster on his belt.

"You don't need that! Put it away!" Hutch hollered at him before turning his attention back to Michael.

"Michael please…." He pleaded with him.

"I'm not going!" Michael insisted.

"Come on kid." Bennett pleaded, inching closer to Michael. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"Stay away from me!" Michael hollored at him, turning his face to the wall and grabbing onto the iron bed post with both hands.

"I'm sorry Michael. But I can't do that." Bennett informed him and then, motioning for the other COs to assist and reached out and grabbed Michael by the arm.

As the other two officers moved in to assist, Michael began to struggle against Bennet's grasp. He managed to jerk his arm free from and immediately shoved one of the other approaching officers back.

"Michael stop!" Hutch hollered at him and made a move to hop down from his bunk.

"You stay put Hutchinson!" Bennett barked at him. "You stay _right_ there."

"Please! Please don't do this!" Michael begged as the officers surrounded him and grabbed hold of him tightly.

"Scoffied! Relax!"

Michael managed to free himself one more time and swung wildly out in front of himself, catching Bennett on the side of his face with his fist.

"God Dammitt!" Bennett hollered angrily.

As the other two officers pinned Michael to the wall and continued to struggle, Bennett decided enough was enough and before Hutch could open his mouth to object, the officer reached out and zapped Michael with the Tazer.

Michael immediately stopped struggling and the other officers caught him as he fell to the floor.

"God Dammit!" Bennett bellowed again, walking to the opposite wall and pounding it with an open palm. "I didn't fuckin' want to do that!"

Hutch glanced down at Michael who was now slumped on the ground and then back up at Bennett. The officer ran his shaking hands through his hair and took a deep breath to calm himself before looking up at Hutch apologetically.

"I didn't want to do that to him." He repeated quietly.

"I know." Hutch replied.

"Shit!"

Hutch and Bennett turned their attention back to the officers who were on the floor tending to Michael.

"Shit! Fuck!" the officer closest to Michael began to holler.

"What? What's wrong?" Bennett asked, rushing over to them.

"He's not breathing." The officer informed him, looking completely panicked.

"What!" Hutch cried out, jumping down off his bunk.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bennett asked, shoving the officer aside to get closer to Michael.

"I'm telling you, he's not breathing." The officer exclaimed. "Something is wrong!"

Bennett knelt down beside Michael and put his fingers in his neck, trying to find a pulse. When he couldn't find one, he put his hand on Michael's chest and lowered his own face to Michael's.

"Oh my God! You're right. He's not breathing! And I can't get a pulse!"

"Michael…" Hutch made a desperate move toward his cellmate but one of the other COs held him back.

"Leonard stay back! Please!"

"Jackson!" Bennett said, addressing the CO who was holding Hutch back, "Call for the Doc. Tell him we have an inmate in cardiac arrest in 18. Run! Now!"

To be continued…


	24. Chapter 24

**BREAKING NEWS**_-FOXRIVER 8 INMATE SCOFIELD SUFFERS HEART ATTACK_

Henry Pope's jaw nearly hit the table when he saw the Breaking News headline scroll across the bottom of the TV screen as he sat at his kitchen table early on that early May morning.

"A heart attack?" Judy Pope said, placing the coffeepot down on the counter and walking over to take a seat next to her husband. "He's only 35 years old."

"I know." Henry replied. "Honey, turn it up."

Judy quickly picked up the remote that was laying on the table beside her and adjusted the volume.

"_We have more information at this time on the breaking story we brought to you late last night, when Michael Scofield, the mastermind behind the infamous Fox River 8 escape five years ago, was rushed to a nearby Chicago Memorial Hospital after reportedly suffering a near fatal heart attack at Statesville Prison. Dana Clement is standing by at Chicago Memorial with the latest. Dana, what can you tell us?"_

"_Well, unfortunately, there's not a whole lot of information being released at this time."_ The young reporter replied as she adjusted her earpiece to better hear the studio. "_But we can confirm that 35 year old Michael Scofield was brought to this hospital at approximately 10:30PM last evening. Now the hospital has not officially released any information on his condition, but there are unconfirmed reports that Mr. Scofield suffered a heart attack after a correctional officer used a standard issue Tazer gun on him. We've tried to confirm these reports with the authorities at Stateville Prison but they too, are not releasing any information at this time."_

"_Is there any word on when or if an official statement will be made by either the hospital or Prison officials?" _The studio reporter asked.

"_We're expecting a joint statement within the hour. As you can see behind me, there are a lot of news vans and media reporters gathered here and we were told a statement would be forthcoming." _

" He's got eight months left on his sentence. What the hell is that boy doing to get himself assaulted with a tazer?" Pope fumed, pounding his fist onto the table angrily.

"Honey…" his wife began, reaching out to stroke her husbands back in an effort to calm him

"Well it doesn't make any sense Judy!"

"I know. I know." She replied shaking her head.

Her husband could deny all he wanted, but it was very clear to her that he still cared deeply for the trouble young inmate who had caused him so much pain.

"We'll just have to wait…"she began before Pope raised his hand to quiet her.

"_Has there been any sign of Lincoln Burrows. I imagine he's very concerned about the welfare of his younger brother. Is he there at the hospital now?"_

"_He is." _Clement replied with a nod._ "He actually arrived here at the hospital last night, prior to our arrival so we did not see him go in. However, we did see his son and Lawyer leaving the hospital around one this morning."_

"_And Lincoln was not with them?"_

"_No he was not. So as far as we know…he's still here."_

"_Did Michael's lawyer or nephew have anything to say?"_

Ms. Clement chuckled at this…

"_Well, LJ Burrow's had plenty to say to us. Unfortunately…we can't repeat any of it."_

"_Well, I would imagine he's probably very distraught."_

"_Oh, absolutely. And we can all certainly understand that. Now, the brother's Lawyer, William Durst…he did tell us that Michael was in stable condition and in fact, was actually stabilized before leaving the Prison. He was apparently brought to the hospital as a precautionary measure. So it appears that he will be OK. We're just waiting for that statement from the Prison officials and the hospital that should be occurring within the hour._

"_And of course Fox news will bring you that statement just as soon as…"_

Henry Pope shut the TV off and sighed.

"It sounds like he's going to fine Henry." Judy offered, sounding hopeful.

"That boy ruined his life." Pope replied. "He's never going to be fine."

Judy opened her mouth to respond when the doorbell rang. Henry looked toward the doorway leading to the front hall and frowned.

"Who could that be?" Judy wondered out loud. It was barely nine o'clock in the morning and they weren't expecting any visitors.

"It better not be a reporter." Henry fumed, getting up from the table and heading toward the hallway.

By the time he made it to the front door, Judy was by his side once again. Preparing for the worst, Henry opened the door and was surprised to see a familiar face standing before him.

"Mr. Pope. I'm so sorry to disturb you this morning. My name is…"

"I know who you are Mr. Durst." Henry replied, looking a bit confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to talk to you about Michael Scofield."

"What about him?" Henry shot back.

"I take it you've heard about what happened last evening?" Durst asked him.

"I have." Henry confirmed. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Nothing." William replied, smiling cordially. "But Michael's life is in danger and I'm petitioning the DOC for an early release."

Judy's eyes lit up as she glanced up at her husband and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Well…"Henry replied, nodding his head. "That's good news I suppose."

"I'm glad you think so." Durst replied. "Because I could really use your help."

Chicago Memorial Hospital

Michael squinted his eyes as he tried to adjust to the bright light that filled his hospital room. It had taken him a moment to figure out that was where he actually was. His mind was a bit foggy and he was having trouble focusing his eyes. But it was too bright to be his cell and familiar beeping of the heart monitor beside his bed pretty much confirmed this fact. For a moment he thought he was perhaps in the infirmary, but then he saw Lincoln, asleep in the armchair beside his bed and he knew that was not the case.

"What the hell happened?" he mumbled groggily to himself, as he brought his hand to his head. The last thing he could recall was arguing with Bennett about going to Ad Seg.

He glanced over at his brother who was slouched in the armchair beside him and wondered vaguely how long he had been there. Hopefully not long, he thought. It hardly looked like a comfortable position to sleep in.

Michael closed his eyes and remembered the last time he had awoken in the hospital and found his brother in that exact same position. It was nearly twenty years ago now but oddly enough, even as groggy and out of it as he felt, he could remember it like it was yesterday.

He remembered thinking how old Lincoln had looked…and he was only twenty.

He remembered how scared Lincoln had looked… Which had frightened him.

And he remembered how sorry he felt…Because he knew it was all his fault.

Michael couldn't remember what had happened at the Prison…what brought him to the hospital. But he had a sickening feeling that it was probably his fault.

"Lincoln." Michael said quietly. And when Lincoln didn't move, he raised his voice. "Linc!"

Startled, Lincoln jolted upright in the chair and looked around before he finally realized that Michael was awake and talking to him.

"Michael. Oh, thank God! Are you alright?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair and resting his hand on Michael's shoulder.

"I've been better." Michael mumbled. "What happened?"

"You got yourself zapped with a tazer gun and had a fuckin' heart attack. That's what happened." Lincoln shot back tersely as he tightened his grip on Michael's shoulder.

Michael furrowed his brow as he tried to remember.

"A heat attack?" Michael repeated.

"Yeah." Lincoln replied. "You heart fuckin stopped and you weren't breathing. You could have died Michael. What the hell were you thinking?"

"They were trying to move me to Ad Seg." Michael said, trying to put the pieces together in his head.

"I know." Lincoln replied.

"I didn't want to go."

"Yeah…you made that perfectly clear." Lincoln countered.

"He told me I didn't have to go." Michael replied. "Durst told me I didn't have to go. He lied to me."

Lincoln frowned and briefly looked away.

"He was trying to save you Michael. We both were."

"I trusted him."

It was all starting to come back to Michael now. The anger he felt and more importantly, the betrayal.

"Listen to me Michael." Lincoln said calmly, leaning in closer to his brother. "Durst did what he had to do. OK? He was protecting you."

"I didn't need protection." Michael replied, shaking his head.

"Yes. You did." Lincoln replied firmly. "That con… Callous…"

Michael whipped his head quickly to the side. Lincoln knew about Callous. He had almost forgotten.

"Look at me Michael." Lincoln said.

Michael kept his head turned and stared at the heart monitor beside the bed. He watched the lines on the monitor speed up slightly and tried to count them as they moved across the screen. It wasn't easy to do, they were moving pretty quickly now but it was better than facing Lincoln and it gave him something else to think about.

"Michael, please." Lincoln pleaded. "Don't shut me out. OK? I just want to help you."

Michael finally turned back to face his brother.

"I don't want to talk about it Lincoln." Michael informed him.

"That's fine. That's all you had to say." Lincoln replied settling back in his chair.

Michael turned back to face the monitor once again.

Lincoln watched him a moment, not knowing what to say. The silence was awkward to say the least, but every time he opened his mouth he seemed to upset Michael. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

As Lincoln continued to stare at his brother in silence, Michael reached his left arm across his chest to scratch his right shoulder. When he did so, his arm must have bumped the electrodes attached to his chest because the lines on his heart monitor jumped momentarily before settling back into a normal rhythm. Lincoln smiled when he saw this.

"Don't you start getting creative again with that monitor Mickey." He warned jokingly.

"Huh?" Michael replied, turning back to face his brother.

"Remember when you were in here that one time…" Lincoln began, leaning forward his chair and smiling. "You had to have been only what…fifteen I think? You were hooked up to a monitor just like that. And you figured out that you could get the lines on your heart monitor to move in time to the Warrant video playing on MTV if you tapped those little things on your chest just so."

Michael smiled at this as he began to recall the incident Lincoln was referring to.

"You remember?" Lincoln repeated excitedly. And then, just in case Michael didn't, he decided to recreate the incident and began tapping his own chest rhythmically while singing…

"_Swing in the bathroom. Swing on the floor. Swing so hard we forgot to lock the door. In walks her daddy standin' six foot four. Singin'…"_

"_You ain't gonna swing with my daughter no more_." Michael and Lincoln finished in unison and they both busted up laughing.

"You do remember!" Lincoln laughed, punching his brother playfully in the arm.

"How could I forget." Michael replied with a devilish grin. "I got in so much trouble for that. Those nurses were pissed!"

"Well what did you expect?" Lincoln replied. "You scared the shit out of them! Man, they came running so fast!"

"I was bored!" Michael laughed, trying to justify himself.

"Yeah. Not to mention mischievous."

"Hey…I was creative!"

"Yes you were." Lincoln agreed. "Absolutely. That was pretty darn creative."

"You know what the really funny part about that was?" Michael asked.

"What's that?"

"I really _hated_ that song."

"Oh come on!" Lincoln replied.

"I did! It was awful."

"I loved that song." Lincoln admitted.

"Well…you would." Michael chuckled.

"I think LJ was conceived to that song."

"Romantic." Michael added sarcastically

"I'm just kidding with ya." Lincoln replied and paused a moment before adding. "Actually, I think it was Dr. Feel Good."

Michael groaned.

"OK. Way too much information." he replied shaking his head. "Poor Lisa!"

"Yeah." Lincoln replied. "She was so pissed off at me that week too. But I remember…when I told her what you had done, she nearly pissed her pants she was laughing so hard."

"Yeah, I guess is it was pretty funny." Michael admitted. "And didn't they discharge me like the next day?"

"Yep." Lincoln replied, nodding his head. "They had had enough of you. That's for sure."

"I can't imagine why?" Michael replied, playing dumb.

"Oh man…" Lincoln sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "It is so good to see you smiling again kid. You have no idea."

"Yeah well, it feels pretty good to have something to smile about for change." Michael admitted.

"I have some more news that might make you smile." Lincoln teased.

"Really? What's that?" Michael asked skeptically.

"Durst is petitioning the DOC for an early release for you."

"How early?" Michael asked.

"With any luck…you won't have to go back to that Prison at all."

Michael scoffed.

"And how's he going to swing that?"

Lincoln figured it probably wasn't a good idea to tell Michael the truth. Somehow he didn't feel Michael wouldn't appreciate the _"we're going to tell them your mentally unstable"_ approach very much. Instead, he just shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. He's meeting with the DOC today and it's going to work."

"Really?" Michael repeated, the anticipation growing in his voice.

"Uh huh." Lincoln replied, leaning forward once again to place his hand on Michael's shoulder. "You're going home Michael. It's almost over. I promise."

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

_Flashback 1996_

Six year old LJ Burrows frowned as he pressed the volume up button on the TV remote, trying desperately to drown out the sounds of his father and uncle bellowing at each other from the back bedroom. The two had been at each other's throats all weekend and while LJ was getting used to it, it still bothered him.

"Oh…don't change the subject Michael. We're not talking about me right now. We're talking about you!" LJ could hear his father continue to holler.

Normally, Michael was never there when LJ visited his father on weekends. He was in college now and spent most of his time in the dormitory. He would often visit LJ at his mom's house, but very rarely was he around when LJ was staying with his dad. Michael and his dad just didn't seem to get along anymore.

LJ had been excited when his mom informed him that his Uncle Mike would be at the apartment that particular weekend. But then she told him that Michael had had an "accident" at school and wouldn't being going back for a few weeks and under no circumstances was he to ask his uncle any questions about it because he was very upset. And while LJ did as he was told, he was a little confused about it.

His uncle looked fine to him. He had a cast on his hand, obviously a result of the so-called "accident", but other than that…he looked OK. Maybe a little sad…apparently Uncle Mike _really _liked school. But he didn't look sick or anything. He remembered when his friend Timmy broke his arm falling off the jungle gym at recess. His arm was in a cast just like Uncle Mike's and _he_ still went to school. He wanted to ask his father why his uncle had to stay home so long, but his dad seemed to be in a very bad mood lately, so he decided against it.

"You're such a liar Linc!" LJ could clearly hear his uncle shout as he got up from the living room floor and headed toward the bedroom door. He couldn't hear his cartoons anymore anyway, so he gave up and decided to find out what all the yelling was about instead.

"Lisa told me you were fired last week. So where the hell are you getting all your money from?" Michael continued.

The door was cracked slightly open as LJ approached so he gently pushed it open a little further and stuck his head in. Luckily, neither his father nor uncle had noticed. They were too busy screaming at each other.

"Oh you want to talk about lying?" Lincoln countered, storming over to his brother's bureau and pulling open the top drawer. "You want to talk about lying? What the hell is this? Huh?"

LJ watched as his father pulled out what looked to be a prescription medicine bottle and held it out for Michael to see.

"It's pain medication." Michael replied, lunging forward to grab the bottle. But Lincoln was too quick and pulled his hand back before Michael could grab the bottle.

"Wrong!" Lincoln spat back. "_This_ is your pain medication." He informed his brother, grabbing another bottle off the top of the bureau.

Michael scowled, then clenched his jaw tight. He was angrier than LJ had ever seen him.

"When the hell did you start taking this shit again?" Lincoln asked him angrily, throwing the bottle at Michael.

"It's none of your damn business." Michael spat back, catching the bottle and shoving it into his pocket. "Besides…it's prescription. _As in my doctor prescribes it_. Unlike the junk you take."

"You don't need that shit Michael!" Lincoln bellowed at him again.

"You have no idea what I need?" Michael countered angrily.

"So why don't you enlighten me then." Lincoln shot back.

"You wouldn't understand." Michael replied. " Why bother?"

"Oh, of course I woudn't. God knows I'm too fuckin' dumb to understand what goes on in that genius brain of yours."

"You said it. Not me." Michael mumbled under his breath.

"I don't want you taking that shit any more Michael. It's messing you up."

"Newsflash Linc…I'm already messed up."

"Shut up Michael! I'm not going to stand here and let you talk like that!"

"Why not? It's the truth!"

"Says who? That damn Doctor you've been seeing."

"I happen to like that damn Doctor!" Michael shot back angrily. "At least he listens to me!"

"He doesn't know you Michael. Not like I know you." Lincoln shouted back.

LJ backed out of the doorway and sat himself down in the hallway. Leaning up against the wall with his knees tucked up under his chin he continued to listen as the adults continued to argue. He was frightened now_. Why was Uncle Mike seeing a doctor? Was he sick? What was going on? _He wiped the tears that started to trickle down his cheek and continued to listen.

"You don't know me!" Michael shot back angrily. " You only see what you _want_ to see…your little brother the genius."

"That's right Michael." Lincoln replied, lowering his voice. "You _are_ a genius. You're fuckin' brilliant. You have so much potential and if you think I'm going to let you throw it all away…"

"I'm not throwing anything away." Michael replied quietly, brushing past his brother and heading toward the door. "But I'm not perfect Linc. So just fuckin' get over it already."

"Don't you walk away from me Michael. We're not done talking about this." Lincoln said, raising his voice once again.

"Oh yes we are." Michael replied.

Michael charged out the door and nearly tripped over his nephew who was still seated in the hallway in tears.

"LJ." Michael said quietly, kneeling down in front of his nephew. "Buddy, what are you doing out here?"

"Uncle Mike…are you sick?" He asked his uncle with a concerned expression on his tiny little face.

"No LJ." Lincoln spoke up from the doorway. "There's nothing wrong with your uncle."

LJ glanced up at his father briefly before turning his attention back to his Uncle.

"Uncle Mike?" LJ repeated, ignoring his father's declaration.

"No buddy. I'm not sick" Michael replied picking the tiny boy up off the floor and hugging him tightly.

"You promise?" LJ whimpered.

"Yes." Michael replied tightening his grip on the small boy. "I'm fine. I promise."

_PRESENT DAY – CHICAGO MEMORIAL HOSPITAL_

"Hey buddy." Michael greeted his nephew groggily, as he rubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his hands. "How long have you been sitting there?"

LJ shrugged.

"Not too long. Dad just stepped out to make a phone call. He should be back in a minute."

Michael groaned.

"He's still here?"

"This surprises you?" LJ asked with a chuckle.

Michael smirked.

"No…I guess not."

LJ shifted nervously in his chair as Michael stared silently at his nephew. It had been a while since they had seen each other. Neither of them knew what to say.

"Are you OK?" LJ said, finally breaking the silence.

"Yeah." Michael replied almost too quickly. "I'm fine. I promise."

LJ sighed and shook his head. If only Michael could see what he did. He looked awful. He was pale, thin and tired looking. A far cry from the uncle he had grown up with.

"You know…" LJ began, picking at his fingers nervously as he addressed his uncle. "I'm a not a little kid any more. You don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying." Michael insisted.

"Yeah you are. And I get it. I do. You're trying to protect me. It's what you've always done. But uh…"

LJ leaned forward and reached out to put his hand on top of Michael's.

"I don't need to be protected anymore Mike. Please let me help you."

Michael closed his eyes and flipped his hand over, grasping LJ's hand tightly.

"Listen…" LJ began, struggling to find the words to adequately express what he wanted to say without further upsetting his uncle. "I know you've been through a lot and you probably don't want to talk about it. But if and when you do…you can talk to me."

LJ paused and brought his other hand to his face as he tried to blink back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. No one had told him what exactly had happened to Michael in Prison. But he had a pretty good idea. It made him angry and it made him sick. He could only imagine what it was doing to Michael.

"I mean…if there is something…that maybe you don't want to talk to my dad about…"

Michael squeezed his eyes tightly shut but made not attempt to stop the flow of his own tears as LJ continued.

"I'm here." LJ insisted. "And I promise you…I won't say a word to Dad."

_Later that morning at the Pope house…_

William Durst dropped the worn manila folder marked "Michael Scofield" onto the kitchen table in front of Henry Pope then took a seat across from Henry and his wife at the table.

Henry looked down at the folder in front of him then back up at Durst.

"Go ahead." William said, motioning toward the folder. "Open it."

Henry did as he was told and opened the folder. On the right, securely fastened inside the folder were typed documents. The first of which was labeled. "Incident Report –Michael Scofield – November 5th 2011." He then turned his attention to the opposite side where there were photographs secured to the folder with a paper clip. He removed the clip and began flipping through the photos, horrified by what he saw.

"The first five are the photos I took after Michael's assault 6 months ago." Durst informed him. "As you can see…he's lucky to be alive."

Henry nodded in agreement. Michael was barely recognizable in the photos. His face was horribly swollen and bruised. And as he flipped through the other pictures, he could see that the injuries did not stop there.

Judy gasped and stood up, walking away from the table and offending photos.

"How can anyone _do that_ to another human being?" she wondered aloud.

"I worked in the department of corrections for twenty five years and I still don't understand." Henry replied sadly. Then, turning his attention back to Durst he asked, "Was he…?"

Durst nodded before Henry could complete his question.

"Dear God." Judy replied, shaking her head in disgust.

"And what about these others?" Henry asked, holding up one of the photos for Durst to see. "They are dated over a year ago."

"Those wounds were self inflicted I'm afraid." Durst replied, taking the photo from Henry's hand. It was a photo he had taken of Michael's arms after he had scraped them bloody on the floor of his cell 18 months earlier.

Judy approached the table once again and stared down at the two remaining photos that her husband was still holding.

"He did that to himself?" she asked, sounding shocked.

Durst nodded.

Henry placed the photos down onto the table and looked up at Durst anxiously.

"I'm sorry Mr. Durst. But what exactly is it that you want from me?"

"Michael's life is in danger." Durst replied

"They can put him into Ad Seg."

"I'll repeat myself." Durst replied tersly. "Michael's life is in danger. Or have you forgotten what happened the time _you_ put Michael into Ad Seg."

Henry shook his head.

"Michael was put into the shu for disciplinary reasons. It's not the same situation."

"He was put into solitary confinement, just as he would be if they put him into Ad Seg. And what happened Mr. Pope? Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember!" Henry shot back angrily. "How the hell could I forget!"

He had tried to forget. For five years he had tried to erase the memory of Michael lying motionless on the floor of the cell. The blank expression on his face…the blood on the wall... and the desperate, panicked cries of his older brother, locked up in his own cell a few feet away. He wanted desperately to forget the horror he had witnessed that night but it still haunted him to this day.

"I need you to tell the DOC Board to what you saw that night Mr. Pope." Durst explained calmly.

Henry sighed and shook his head.

"What good will it do? They'll just say that it was all just part of Michael's plan to gain access to the psych ward."

"Was it?" Durst asked. "Is that what _you_ believe?"

Henry said nothing as he glanced back down at the photos in front of him.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that after what you witnessed that night, you honestly believe that Michael was faking."

Henry remained silent.

"You can't."

"Why me?" Henry asked. "There were others there that night. Dr. Tancredi is more qualified…"

"Sarah Tancredi is emotionally invested in Michael Scofield. They're not going to listen to her. They _will_ listen to you. You have absolutely no reason to lie for Michael Scofield and very good reasons for wanting to keep him behind bars."

"And yet you are asking me to help him."

"I'm asking you to tell the truth Henry. I'm not asking you to go in there and declare Michael a saint. I'm just asking you to tell the truth."

Henry sighed and got up from the table. He crossed the room and stared silently out the window while keeping his back to Michael's lawyer.

"If Michael Scofield remains in that prison for the another eight months he _will _die." Durst said emphatically. "And there are some people out there who would say that is justice. If you agree with them Mr. Pope, then just let me know and I'll leave right now and fight this battle on my own. But if you disagree, and I think you do…then please…help me.

To be continued…


	26. Chapter 26

"You back so soon Linc?" The guard outside Michael's hospital room asked, smiling cordially as Lincoln approached.

"Yeah…just went home to shower and pick a few things up for Michael." Lincoln informed him, handing over his shopping bag for the guard's inspection.

"Sweats, t-shirts, boxers…" the guard said as he picked through the bag. "What's this?" he asked, pulling what looked like a tangled mess of medal rings and bars from the bag.

Lincoln shrugged.

"Some sort of puzzle. My son's girlfriend picked it up for him. She thought he might like it."

"Oh yeah." The guard replied inspecting it more closely. "My wife got one of these as a gift from her friend a few years ago. We never have managed to solve one it. And believe me…I've spent hours trying."

Lincoln smiled as he took the tangled mess of medal back and placed it back in the bag.

"Yeah well…I'll have Michael put it back together for you before I leave and you can spend hours working on this one. How's that sound?"

The guard laughed.

"You really think he'll figure it out that quick."

Lincoln smiled.

"Abolutely. But let's just keep that between us. OK. My future daughter-in-law would be crushed if she found out. She's hoping this thing will keep him happily distracted for hours."

The guard laugh.

"Will do." He replied, playfully slapping Lincoln on the back as Lincoln headed into the room.

Michael was asleep when Lincoln walked in which didn't surprise him. His brother had been in the hospital two days now and most of that time had been spent sleeping. The doctors insisted this was the best thing for him. While tests had shown no indication of any permanent damage to Michael's heart, his doctors were still concerned about him. Lack of sleep and food coupled with the persistent mental stress and anxiety had done a number on Michael's system and they insisted it could be weeks before Michael returned to full physical strength. Which is why they refused to release him and have him returned to Prison. Luckily, no one in the DOC had fought them on this and for that Lincoln was grateful.

Lincoln set his bag on the floor and began pulling out the clothes and other items he had brought and placed them neatly in the drawers of the small table beside Michael's bed. He then began tacking some new photos of Veronica, along with a note from Mrs. Tamworth, on the corkboard above Michael's bed. He had just finished tacking the last picture to the board when Michael began to stir and opened his eyes.

"Linc?"

"Sorry buddy." Lincoln whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"No. It's OK." Michael replied groggily as he struggled to sit himself up. Lincoln helped him by using the remote to raised Michael up and then helped him adjust his pillow so he would be seated more comfortably.

Michael glanced over at the clock, which read 3:00 pm then turned his attention back to Lincoln.

"What are you doing back here?" He asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

"I told you I was coming back." Lincoln replied.

Michael sighed.

"You don't have to be here all the time Lincoln. I'm fine."

"I know that." Lincoln said with a smile. "The doctor's say you're doing much better."

"Well…then why are you still here?"

"Because I wanna be." Lincoln insisted.

Michael chuckled.

"I'm not going to win this argument. Am I?"

"Nope." Lincoln laughed and then took a seat in the armchair beside the bed. "So…I got some good news."

"Yeah? What's that?" Michael said, yawning as he stretched his aching arms out over his head.

"Durst's meeting with the DOC is set for tomorrow."

"Really?" Michael replied, sounding more surprised than excited as he lowered his hands back into his lap.

"Really." Lincoln confirmed. "This is it Mikey. You're gonna be home in a few days.

Michael said nothing. He gave his brother a weak smile, then looked down and began picking nervously at his fingers.

"Michael. Did you hear what I just said?" Lincoln asked.

"Yeah Linc. I heard you."

"Well, you don't look too excited about it." Lincoln pointed out.

"That could be because I'm not." Michael stated matter-of-factly.

Lincoln shook his head in disbelief.

"What?"

"I'm not excited Linc." Michael repeated. "I'm terrified."

"What…What are you talking about? Michael, we have been waiting five years for this." Lincoln exclaimed. "You can finally relax and…"

"Relax?" Michael scoffed.

"Yes. Relax." Lincoln insisted. "You don't ever have to go back there Michael. You're free."

"Maybe I want to go back." Michael replied calmly. "At least I know what to expect there.

Once again, Lincoln shook his head. He was lost for words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Honestly Linc…" Michael continued. "What the hell do I have to look forward to out there besides a life of infamy and rejection. I mean…look at me."

Michael threw his tattood and scarred arms into the air.

"Who the hell is going to want me for anything?"

"Michael…" Lincoln began.

"And what about the families of all the people that died because of me and what I did? How are they going to feel knowing that I am a free man after serving only five years."

"You didn't kill anyone Michael." Lincoln insisted.

"No I didn't." Michael conceded. "I didn't kill David Apolskis. I just knowingly and willingly involved a nineteen year old kid in a dangerous situation that eventually got him killed. And I didn't kill that guard during the prison riot. I just started the riot that got him killed. And I didn't kill all of those people that T-bag murdered I just…"

"Michael! Stop it! OK! Just stop!"

"I don't _deserve_ to be free Lincoln."

"Well the court apparently disagrees. They sentenced you Michael and you've served your time. It's time for you to start over. It's time for you to have a life again."

"A life? What life?" Michael asked him.

"Listen." Lincoln said, leaning forward and placing a strong hand on his brother's shoulder. "I know it's going to be hard. Believe me. I've been there. I'm _still_ there. But it will get easier. I promise you. In time…people will forget and you and I will get on with our lives."

Michael looked up at Lincoln. But in his eyes, Lincoln did not see a 35-year-old man poised to start the rest of his life. What Lincoln saw in Michael's eyes at that moment was the same fear and uncertainty he had seen so many times in Michael when they were young. It broke his heart and just like in the past, Lincoln did not know what to do to calm his brother's fears. Finally, he said the only thing he could think of…

"We'll get through this Michael. You just have a little faith."

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

_Flashback 1994_

"Come on guys." Veronica pleaded, camera readied as she desperately tried to get the brother's to stand and smile for this, she figured, once in a lifetime photograph. "One picture. OK? Work with me here. Michael! What are you doing? Stop making faces."

"I'm not making faces." Michael laughed. "The sun is in my eyes."

"Oh for heaven's sake." Veronica wined. "Lisa was right. We should have done this at the school. Lincoln! Lincoln!"

She was desperately trying to get her ex's attention. He was standing with one armed draped casually over Michael's shoulder but rather than looking ahead and smiling for the photo Veronica was desperately trying to take, he was focused on his tiny son who had managed to climb up onto the picnic table bench and was happily munching away on the cheese and crackers that Lisa had brought out for the guests.

"LJ! LJ!" Lincoln hollered. "Get down from there. No more! You're gonna get sick."

"No I'm not." The three and half year old shot back defiantly.

"LJ. Don't be fresh." Lisa scolded him as she walked over and placed some more hour devours on the table top. "You heard your daddy. Get down." She said, grabbing her young son by the arm and pulling him off the bench.

LJ screamed in protest and threw himself down onto the ground, drawing attention to himself from the other party guests. Lisa sighed and looked at Lincoln.

"Man, he is so over tired." Lincoln said, taking a sip of the beer he was holding in his free hand.

Lisa glared at Lincoln but fortunately for everyone, decided against pointing out that since LJ had stayed with him the night before as she made last minute preparations for the party, it was Lincoln's fault his son was over tired and unruly. As usual, Lincoln had let the three year old stay up way too late.

"LJ. Come on buddy." Michael tried to coax the small boy.

"No Michael." Lisa said sternly. "He is throwing a tantrum. We don't acknowledge him when he's throwing a tantrum. You pay attention to what your doing. Veronica is trying to get a picture. You two need to cooperate."

Veronica laughed.

"Thank you." She said to Lisa.

"No problem." Lisa replied politely. "Lincoln, for God's sake. Can you put the beer down for two seconds?"

"Oh…sorry." Lincoln said, taking another quick sip before handing the bottle off to her.

"OK." Veronica said, raising her camera to take the picture. "No look at me and for the love of God…smile!"

Lincoln tightened his grip on Michael's shoulder and the two of them finally smiled proudly. Veronica was about to snap her picture when Lisa stopped her.

"Oh! Wait! Wait! Wait!"

Veronica lowered her camera and the brothers sighed in frustration as they all turned their attention to Lisa.

"Michael, where is your diploma?" she asked him.

Michael shrugged.

"I dunno."

"Well you can't have your graduation picture taken without your diploma." She insisted.

"I think your mom put it over near the cake." Lincoln advised her, motioning to another picnic table set up across the yard.

"Oh right!" Lisa replied and dashed off to retrieve the coveted diploma.

"Man." Michael wined, loosening his tie and tugging at his collar. "It is so frickin' hot out here."

"Tell me about it." Lincoln agreed. "Can I at least take off this damn jacket?"

"Not until I get my picture." Veronica replied, stamping her feet in mock protest. "Stop being such babies. It's not that hot."

"That's easy for you to say. You're in a sleeveless sun dress." Michael pointed out.

"I got it." Lisa replied, running over and handing Michael his diploma. "Oh honey, your tie is all messed up."

Veronica and Lincoln both struggled to stifle their laughter as Lisa dutifully fixed the aforementioned tie that poor Michael had just finished loosening.

"There. Perfect." Lisa commented, as she quickly stepped out of the way.

"OK. Now please…smile like you mean it." Veronica begged and raised her camera once again.

This time, the boys happily cooperated. Michael held up his diploma and Lincoln beamed like any proud father would on his son's graduation day. It was a genuine moment and it was perfect.

At this point, LJ, tired of being ignored, waddled over to his father. His cheeks were streaked with tears and he sniffled as he tugged on his father's pant leg, begging to be picked up. Lincoln obliged and hoisted the tiny boy into his arms.

"Whats the matter bud?" he asked as LJ wrapped his tiny arms around his fathers neck and buried his face in Lincoln's shoulder. "I think someone's ready for a nap."

"NO!" LJ wined, squirming from his father's grasp as he reached for the safety of Michael's outstretched arms.

"Uh oh!" Michael laughed, taking LJ from Lincoln. "You did it now. You said the dreaded "N" word."

"I know." Lincoln said, rolling his eyes. "I'm such a mean daddy."

"Honey." Lisa said, reaching out to stoke her son's hair. "Can mommy take you upstairs and get you out of that suit?"

"No!" LJ replied, tightening his grip on Michael.

Lincoln laughed.

"He's no dummy. He knows if he goes upstairs with mommy it's naptime!"

"OK. That's so not helping Lincoln." Lisa admonished him.

"How about if _I_ take you upstairs and we _both_ get out of these nasty suits." Michael offered. "Then we can come down and have some cake! What do ya say? You want cake don't you?" he asked, tickling LJ's tummy playfully.

LJ giggled and nodded.

"OK then. You can't have cake with that nice suit on. So let's go get changed." Michael said and headed off toward the house.

"Thank you Michael." Lisa hollered after him.

"Hey! How come Michael gets to change out of his suit?" Lincoln complained.

"Because." Lisa replied walking over and handing Lincoln back his beer. "He had the sense to bring a change of clothes with him. _You_ didn't. So you'll just have to deal. Besides, it wouldn't kill you to look like a presentable adult for a change."

Veronica giggled quietly to herself as she sat in a nearby lawn chair and removed the film from her camera. She had never met Lisa before and certainly didn't know her but she was surprised to find herself actually liking her. She certainly knew how to put Lincoln in his place.

"Veronica."

Veronica looked up from her camera, surprised to hear Lisa calling her name.

"Can I get you something to drink? A wine cooler? A beer?"

Veronica smiled politely and shook her head.

"No. Thank you. I'm good."

"OK." Lisa replied. "There are plenty of drinks in the cooler over near the porch so…help yourself."

Lisa started to walk away but Lincoln stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

"Hey." He said quietly, placing his hands on her shoulder. "Thank you. You know…for doing this for Michael."

Lisa shrugged.

"I'm happy to do it for him. He worked hard. He deserves this."

"I know." Lincoln replied. "But you uh…you really went above and beyond by inviting Veronica. I know it means a lot to Michael to have her here."

"Well, it's Michael's party. And I know how much he cares for her." Lisa replied, briefly glancing over at Veronica who was now trying to busy herself by picking non-existent lint from her sundress. "And you know…I give her props for coming. I imagine this has to be a little awkward for her as well."

Lincoln smiled, leaned forward and gently kissed Lisa's forehead.

"I didn't deserve either one of you." Lincoln said with a genuine sincerity in his voice. "Not for one minute."

Lisa laughed.

"Yeah well…you said it. Not me. Remember that." she said, taking a step back and allowing Lincoln's hands to fall from her shoulders. Then, pointing to his beer bottle she added. "You take it easy on those today. OK?"

Lincoln nodded.

"I will. I promise."

Lincoln watched as Lisa walked across the yard and took a seat beside her mother and one of Michael's teachers. He wished he could hear what they were talking about it. Lisa's Mom was never very fond of him. In fact, she couldn't stand him. She was probably telling Michael's teacher how surprising it was that Michael had grown into such a fine young man and managed to graduate at the top of his high school class despite the fact that he was raised by a no good hoodlum like Lincoln Burrows.

"Hey. Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to stare?" Veronica's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Lincoln smiled and walked over to where Veronica was seated.

"That woman can't stand me." Lincoln said, holding his bottle out for Veronica to hold so that he could remove his jacket. "I can only imagine what she's telling Michael's teacher."

Veronica shrugged.

"I dunno. She seems sweet. And she absolutely adores Michael.

Lincoln scoffed as he grabbed a lawn chair, pulled it up beside Veronica, and sat down.

"Everyone adores Michael. Don't let her fool you." Lincoln replied, grabbing his beer back from Veronica and taking a long swig. "The woman is evil."

"Why?" Veronica countered. "Because she dislikes _you?"_

Lincoln frowned.

"Sorry." Veronica said.

Lincoln smiled and shook his head.

"It's OK. So…are you having a good time?"

Veronica smiled and her eyes grew wide as she surveyed all the guests in the back yard. She knew none of them.

"Well…you know…I _am_ actually. It's not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Lisa has been surprisingly sweet and hospitable and Michael is just _so_ happy."

"Yeah." Lincoln nodded his head in agreement. "Well, I'm glad you came."

"So am I" Veronica admitted. "It's great to see Michael so happy. And you…" she said, elbowing Lincoln in the side playfully. "I've never seen you this happy before."

"Oh my God. You have no idea Veronica." Lincoln replied smiling. "I have been waiting for this day for so long."

"I know. You were absolutely beaming today. You should have seen yourself. I mean…the look on your face when Michael walked up there and accepted his diploma…." She shook her head. "I'll never forget it."

Lincoln smiled.

"Do you think he knows?" he asked her. "How proud I am of him."

Veronica laughed.

"How could he not? I think you were the only grown man in the audience who jumped up and "whooped" like he was practicing to be a member of the dog pound on the old Arsenio Hall show."

Lincoln groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh god. Do you think I embarrassed him?"

Veronica nodded.

"Probably. But I think he'll get over it."

Lincoln sighed happily and took another sip of his beer.

"So…" Veronica began hesitantly. "Michael's going to Loyola?"

Lincoln smiled and took another sip of his beer.

"I know. Can you believe it?"

"No…actually, I can't."

Lincoln shot her a look and Veronica immediately realized that Lincoln had taken her statement the wrong way.

"I mean…Michaels' brilliant and all. I know that." She added quickly. "I'm sure he could've gotten into Harvard had he applied. It's just…Loyola's an expensive school."

Lincoln shook his head.

"It's taken care of."

"So I hear." Veronica replied, folding her arms across her chest and giving Lincoln the familiar look of disapproval.

"What?" Lincoln asked playing dumb.

"Come on Linc. You and I both know your mother didn't have any life insurance."

Lincoln straightened up in his chair and looked around to make sure know one else had heard her.

"Christ Vee! Lower your fuckin' voice."

"Where did the money come from Lincoln?" Veronica asked, lowering her voice to an acceptable level.

"It's not important."

Veronica gave him another look and Lincoln rolled his eyes.

"I borrowed it. OK? But I swear…if you tell Michael."

"Borrowed it from who? Who do you know who has that kind of money?"

Lincoln opened his mouth to respond but Veronica quickly raised her hand to silence.

"You know what? Never mind. I don't want to know."

"Look. The point is…Michael would never have taken the money had he known I borrowed it. I had to make him believe it was _his_ money."

"And he hasn't he asked about _your_ money?"

"Of course he has. I told him I put a chunk of it away for LJ and he probably thinks I'm pissing the remainder away on drugs or some other shit."

"And this doesn't bother you?"

"No!" Lincoln shot back angrily. "If it keeps him from finding out the truth…I'll let him believe whatever the hell he wants."

Veronica sighed and looked across the yard at Lisa who was still seated with her mother and Michael's teacher.

"What about Lisa?" she asked. "Hasn't she…"

"Lisa doesn't know." Lincoln replied. "I don't know how she thinks we're paying for it, but she hasn't asked and fortunately, Michael has the common sense not to discuss it with her."

"I don't know Linc…"Veronica said shaking her head. "I just have a bad feeling about this."

"Oh Vee. It's gonna be fine. OK.

"If you say so."

"I do say so. Michael's going to college. He's going to be an engineer."

"Really? An engineer? That's what he wants to do?" Veronica asked, smiling brightly.

"Yep! A structural Engineer. And he'll be a damn good one too." Lincoln replied, polishing off the last of his beer. "He's not going to be like me Veronica. I made damn sure of that. That kids going places. He's going to have a good life."

"Yeah." Veronica agreed. "Thanks to you."

_END OF FLASHBACK_

_PRESENT_

Lincoln pulled his car over on a quiet suburban street about two blocks from his son's home and threw the car into park. He rested his head back against the seat and let the tears of frustration and pain flow down his cheeks.

"_He's not going to be like me Veronica."_

He could remember the conversation so clearly.

"_I made damn sure of that."_

Lincoln reached forward and pounded his fists several times on the dashboard angrily.

"You stupid Fuck! You stupid, stupid Fuck!" He admonished himself.

The reality of Michael's situation…his future or lack thereof… had finally hit Lincoln. That perfect life he had once dreamed of for his little brother…was now just that. A dream. And Lincoln had no one to blame but himself for that.

"_What the hell do I have to look forward to out there…?" _Michaels' question kept echoing in Lincoln's mind. _"Who the hell is going to want me for anything?"_

Lincoln buried his face in his hands and tried to focus on something else. But it was useless.

Michael had had so much to look forward to once. He had his whole life ahead of him. But now he had nothing. Nothing but "_life of infamy and rejection." _as Michael had so accurately put it.

Lincoln wanted nothing more than to embrace his brother and assure him that it wasn't true. Assure him that he _would _have a life…a career again…and a family. But he couldn't.

Lincoln sat in the car, wallowing in his guilt for several minutes when suddenly, a knock on the car window caught his attention.

Lincoln jolted upright and glanced outside to find a well dressed young man in his mid thirties standing outside the car smiling at him.

"Did you want to come in?" the man hollered at him through the glass.

Lincoln gave the man a quizzical look and rolled down his window.

"Huh?"

"Did you want to come in?" the man repeated.

Lincoln furrowed his brow and shook his head. He was still confused.

"Did you want to have a look at the house?" The man asked him and pointed.

Lincoln turned his head in the direction the man was pointing and saw that he was parked in front of a run down bungalow with boarded windows and a sign in front that read "OPEN HOUSE."

"It doesn't look like much. I know. But it's a real bargain for the price." The man admitted. "I was about to leave. The open house technically ended 10 minutes ago. But if you're interested, I'd be happy to let you have a look."

Lincoln looked back at the house and then turned his attention back to the man.

"You're a realtor?"

"Uh huh." The man replied. "Like I said…I know it doesn't look like much…but with a little work and time…it could be a real beauty."

"Looks like a dump." Lincoln pointed out.

"Well yeah. _Now_ it does. But you look like a guy who knows his way around a toolbox. Think of it as a project. An investment for the future."

"A project huh?" Lincoln said thoughtfully.

"Exactly."

Lincoln smiled, removed his keys from the ignition and unfastened his seatbelt.

"You know what?" He said, opening the car door and stepping out. "I think I will take a look."

To be continued…


	28. Chapter 28

"What do you think? Lincoln asked, throwing his hands up excitedly as he stood in front of the dilapidated bungalow with LJ and Amber.

LJ and Amber looked up at the house, then at each other and shrugged.

"Uh…What exactly are we looking at Dad?" LJ asked. "Other than an eyesore that is."

Lincoln frowned, dropping his hands to his side as he turned to face the kids.

"It's not an eyesore." He replied defensively. "It's my house."

LJ's jaw dropped.

"He's joking. Right?" Amber muttered under her breath to LJ.

"He better be." LJ shot back.

Lincoln sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not joking guys. I bought this house. It's for me and Michael."

"For Michael?" LJ repeated. "Hasn't the poor guy been through enough?"

"LJ." Amber said, bringing her hand to her head. She was as confused as her fiancée. But it was obvious to her that her future father-in-law was serious about this. She didn't want to upset him or hurt his feelings.

LJ, however, didn't care apparently.

"Seriously dad. What were you thinking? I gave you 1.5 _million _dollars and _this_ was the best you could do?"

"Kiddo, you are missing the big picture here."

"No dad. I think you are missing the big picture here. There is a reason why this house has been on and off the market for the past three years. It's a dump!"

"Well yeah. _Now_ it is" Lincoln agreed. "But don't you see? This our house. We can do whatever we want with it!"

"Great!" LJ said brightly. "Can we burn it?"

Lincoln frowned as Amber reached out and slapped her fiancée while simultaneously trying to stifle her laughter.

"What? No! We cannot burn it!" Lincoln exclaimed.

LJ laughed.

"I'm sorry Dad. I'm trying to understand. I really am. I just…I don't get it! You could afford a brand new house."

"What the hell is Michael going to do in a new house besides hide from the world?"

"So…you brought him a dump hoping what…? He'd run away?"

Lincoln laughed.

"NO!"

He turned back to face the house once again. LJ was right…it was a dump. It needed a lot of work. But that's what made it perfect. How could LJ not see that?

"I bought this house so Michael would have something to do. Something he loves. He's so afraid now that his life is over. And I want to prove to him that's not true."

LJ frowned and looked down at the ground. He was so excited about finally having his uncle home, he had never stop to consider what his future would be like. Lincoln had been out of jail for almost 2 months and people were still whispering, pointing or crossing the street to avoid him. It didn't bother Lincoln, he was used to having a bad reputation. He never gave adman about what anyone thought of him. And the fact that he had never really held a steady job in his life, made the constant rejection he encountered a little easier to swallow. But Michael was different. He had been successful once and he had been respected. And now, all that was gone.

"I know it's going to take time." Lincoln continued. "It's going to take time for Mike to adjust and for the people in this damn town to forget. But I'll be damned if I let Michael spend that time hiding away and reliving the past. Michael is a structural engineer and a damn good one. That's what he loves and that's what he should be doing."

LJ smiled and took a step forward, finally seeing his father's investment in a whole new light.

"So you are giving him his life back."

Lincoln smiled back as he glanced once more time at the house.

"I'm trying."

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

"What do you mean I can't go in?" Lincoln asked angrily as he stood outside the meeting room in the DOC building in downtown Chicago.

William Durst sighed as he brought his hands to his head in frustration.

"Lincoln…I just don't think it's a good idea. OK? Now please…just go home. I will call you as soon as I know anything. I promise."

"No." Lincoln said, shaking his head. "No fuckin' way. Michael's my brother and I have a right to be in there."

"Lincoln! For God's sakes…" Durst began loudly, then quickly stopped when he noticed a young administrative assistant glance at him curiously as she walked by. Grabbing Lincoln by the upper arm, he directed him out of the middle of the hallway before continuing. "You need to listen to me! OK? For once in your life just listen and stop fighting me all the time!"

"I'm going in." Lincoln insisted.

Durst shook his head as Lincoln scowled at him angrily.

"Lincoln, believe me. You don't want to be in there." Durst informed him. "In order for me to make my case for Michael's early release, I'm going to have to bring up a lot of things from Michael's past. Things I'm sure you don't want to hear about or have to relive."

"I can handle it." Lincoln replied, although he no longer sounded as sure of himself.

"I'm sorry Linc. I just can't take that chance. I know you too well."

Lincoln opened his mouth to continue his argument but stopped when he noticed a familiar face ascending the staircase.

"What is he doing here?"

Durst turned in the direction Lincoln was staring and saw Henry Pope walking toward them.

"I asked him to come." Durst replied quickly and quietly to Lincoln as Pope approached. "He's here to help."

Durst turned and started toward Henry, but Lincoln quickly reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Help?" Lincoln repeated skeptically. "Michael betrayed him. What could he possibly have to say about Michael that could help?"

"Lincoln!" Durst said angrily, jerking his arm free. "Just trust me. OK?"

Lincoln scowled again, but said nothing as Durst left his side to approach Henry. Lincoln shoved his hands into his pockets and unwillingly fell into step behind Durst.

"Henry. Thank you for coming." Durst greeted the former Warden cordially and extended his hand to him.

"You're welcome." Pope replied as he shook Durst's hand. "Although I have to admit. I was having second thoughts. I'm still not positive what I have to say will help much."

"That makes two of us." Lincoln muttered under his breath but loud enough that both Durst and Pope turned their attention to him.

"Hello Lincoln." Pope greeted him. "It's been a long time. You're looking well."

"Thanks." Lincoln replied, briefly making eye contact with Pope before turning his attention to down to the floor.

It had been years since Lincoln had last seen Henry Pope and while they each had come to terms with what had happened to them, there was understandably still some tension between them. Not animosity so much…but an uneasiness that was difficult to mask.

"I'm was uh…sorry to hear about what happened to Michael." Pope offered. "I hope he is doing better."

Lincoln nodded but kept his eyes focused on the shiny tiles beneath his feet.

"He's getting there. He'll be even better once he can put this whole mess behind him and get on with his life."

"We all will." Pope replied. "It's what we all need. To move on…It's time."

Lincoln looked up and his eyes met Pope's once again. It was difficult looking into the eyes of a man who had every right and reason to hate you, but for some reason, didn't. Michael had betrayed him and ruined his life to save Lincoln. Yet here he was, five years later, stepping up to save Michael's life.

"We should go in now. They're waiting for us." Durst informed Pope. Then, turning to Lincoln he added. "Go wait with Michael. I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

Lincoln sighed and shook his head.

"I don't want to make Michael any more anxious than he already is."

Durst opened his mouth to object but Lincoln smiled and held up his hand.

"It's OK. I'll wait out here."

"Hang in there kid." Durst said, reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on Lincoln's shoulder." It's almost over."

Durst turned and headed toward the conference room doors with Pope by his side.

"William." Lincoln called out and Durst turned back once again. "I do...trust you. I do."

Durst smiled. He knew how hard that was for Lincoln to say. When it came to Michael's safety and well being…Lincoln trusted no one. He hadn't for a very long time.

_FLASHBACK 1987_

"What's going on?" 17 year old Lincoln asked, the fear in his voice evident as he took a step back toward the door he just come through.

When Jackson, one of the Counselors at the Cook County Juvenile facility had called Lincoln out of the recreation room that day and told him he was escorting him to a meeting with his social worker, Lincoln hadn't been too alarmed. It wasn't unusual for residents to have meetings with their social workers, assigned counselors or one of the many Doctors on staff. But when Lincoln walked into the meeting room on that summer afternoon, he knew this was not a normal meeting. While it may not have been uncommon to have a meeting with one of the aforementioned staff members, it was highly unusual to find yourself in a room with all of them at once. But that was exactly the situation Lincoln suddenly found himself in.

Not only was Lincoln's social worker, Regina Davis, there, but the staff physician, Dr. Lawson, and the facility Director were present as well.

"It's OK Linc." Jackson said calmly, taking Lincoln's arm and trying to coax him further into the room.

"Bullshit!" Lincoln shot back, jerking his arm free of the man's grasp. "What the hell is this?"

"We just want to talk to you Lincoln." Ms. Davis informed him, "Why don't you take a seat."

"No!" Lincoln spat back. "Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on."

"Watch your mouth Lincoln." The Director warned him.

"Yeah? Why don't you go fuck yourself!" Lincoln suggested.

"Hey! Hey! Easy!" Jackson said, stepping in front of Lincoln and gently placing his hands on Lincoln's shoulder.

"I want to know what's going on?" Lincoln told him.

"And we're going to tell you." Jackson insisted. "But you need to calm down first."

"Is it Michael?" Lincoln asked him and when Jackson didn't immediately respond he turned his attention to Ms. Davis. "Did something happen to Michael?"

"Lincoln, why don't you just relax and…" Ms. Davis began, but Lincoln quickly cut her off.

"Don't tell me to fuckin' relax! I asked you a question. Did something happen to my brother?"

The room fell silent and Lincoln could feel the vomit start to rise in his throat. The seconds on the wall clock seemed to pound in his head like a jackhammer as he waited for what seem like forever for someone to respond. Finally, Dr. Lawson stood up and approached Lincoln.

"Yes Lincoln. Something happened to Michael."

Lincoln gasped and could feel his knees start to buckle as he brought his hands to his face and began to stagger backward.

"Lincoln…listen to me." Jackson instructed, grabbing Lincoln by both arms, holding him upright. "Michael is OK. I promise you. He's OK."

"But he just said…"

"There was an incident with his foster father…but Michael is OK." Jackson informed him.

"What kind of an incident?" Lincoln demanded.

Jackson paused again and Lincoln jerked himself free from his grasp.

"What happened? Just fuckin' tell me!"

"Lincoln… your brother's foster father was murdered two days ago." The Director informed him.

"What?" Lincoln hollered. "Oh my God!"

"They don't know if your brother was there when it happened." The director continued as he got up from his seat and circled the table to get closer to Lincoln. "He can't recall anything that happened the day the murder occurred and he hasn't been able to tell the authorities anything."

"Was he…was he hurt?" Lincoln asked them between choking sobs as he brushed away his tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt."

"There were bruises and cuts on his face." Ms. Davis explained. "Someone had assaulted him. But…"

"But what?" Lincoln hissed.

The social worker paused and briefly glanced around the room at her colleagues before continuing…

"They don't think it was same person who murdered his foster father. There was _other_ bruising on Michael's body. _Older_ bruises."

"No!" Lincoln said, closing his eye and shaking his head furiously as the tears began to stream down his face once again.

"It appears as though Michael's foster father had been abusing him." The woman concluded.

Lincoln felt his knees start to buckle again and he quickly dropped to his knees, doubling over in agony. He wanted scream, but he couldn't. He couldn't breathe. Hearing that someone had struck his brother even once was bad enough, but to be told Michael had spent the last six months with a man who had been physically abusing him was more than he could bear.

Clearly concerned, Lincoln's social worker stood up, but kept her distance as the as Dr. Lawson rushed forward to assist Jackson who had knelt down beside Lincoln.

"Lincoln…buddy… breathe." Jackson pleaded, wrapping his arms around the anguished boy.

"Relax and take a breath Lincoln." Lawson instructed him, as he too, knelt on the other side of Lincoln "It's going to be OK."

"It's not OK!" Lincoln finally managed to holler, breaking free from Jackson's grasp and jumping to his feet. "It's not OK! He's eleven years old! You people were supposed to be protecting him!"

"Lincoln…we didn't know what was happening." Ms. Davis insisted.

"You should have known you bitch!" Lincoln spat back, pointing a finger at her accusingly as he took a step toward her.

"Lincoln, you need to calm down." Jackson said , stepping between the teenager and his social worker.

"Don't fuckin' tell me what I need to do!" Lincoln shouted again, getting right in his counselors face.

Fearing for Jackson's safety, Dr. Lawson quickly reached out and grabbed Lincoln by the arm.

This only infuriated Lincoln further and before anyone could stop him, he quickly spun around and punched the Doctor in the face with his free hand.

As Lawson fell to the floor, Jackson reacted, tackling Lincoln to the ground. He wrapped his arms tightly around Lincoln upper body, and struggled to hold on as Lincoln thrashed, kicked. and hollered profanities.

"Hold him!" Dr. Lawson instructed, rubbing his aching jaw as he struggled to his feet and made his way across the room to retrieve his bag from the windowsill.

"I'm trying." Jackson insisted as he continued to struggle. "Hurry up!"

"Lincoln! Please stop!" Ms. Davis begged, watching helplessly as Jackson and the Director struggled to control the angry boy. "This is not going to help your brother!"

"Fuck you!" Lincoln shouted as he continued to fight.

"Would you hurry up!" Jackson hollered at the Doctor angrily.

"I got it." Lawson replied, hustling over to the struggling trio with a needle in his hand. "Hold him still."

"No! No!" Lincoln hollered, as Lawson dropped to his knees beside them and tapped at the needle he was about use.

"Just relax Lincoln." he said sympathetically.

"Please! Please! No!" Lincoln begged.

"It's just going to calm you down. You'll feel better. I promise." The doctor informed him as he slowly pressed the needle into Lincoln's upper arm.

The drug began to work almost instantly and Lincoln could feel the energy start to drain from his body. He stopped struggling and the Director sighed in relief…releasing his hold on Lincoln's legs. Jackson, in turn, loosened _his_ grip, but unlike the Director, he didn't let go. Instead, he cradled Lincoln's head in his lap and tried his best to soothe the now sobbing boy.

"Easy buddy. Easy."

"I want to see my brother." Lincoln sobbed. "I want to see Michael."

"You will." Jackson assured him. "You'll see him soon."

To be continued…

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

"My God. Look at you! You've grown so much." Lincoln Burrows exclaimed as he wrapped his arms tightly around Michael's body and pressed his lips to the small boys head. "Veronica said you had grown but…wow! You must've grown at least three inches since I saw you last."

Michael said nothing, but kept his head firmly pressed against his older brother's chest as he dug his fingers into the small of Lincoln's back.

"You've gotten so big!"

"Well, that's what little boys do." Ms Davis said with a smile as she stood next to Michael's foster mother in the foyer of Michael's new home. "They grow."

"You just wait. Before you know it you're going to be as tall as your brother," Michael's foster mother added, reaching out and gently stroking his hair.

"Uh oh." Lincoln laughed, quickly reaching up to brush away his tears with the back of his sleeve so Michael wouldn't see him crying. "I better watch out then. Huh?"

Michael remained silent, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around Lincoln's waist and his face buried into fabric of Lincoln's sweatshirt. Lincoln swallowed as he glanced nervously over at Ms. Davis, who gave him a reassuring smile. He was doing his best not to let him emotions take over as she had warned him that doing so would only upset Michael further. But it was hard.

"Hey…" Lincoln began, arching his back slightly as he placed his hands gently on either side of Michael's face and raised his head so Michael was looking at him. "I missed you."

He waited patiently for Michael to respond. But Michael maintained his silence. Here merely stared up at his brother with a cold empty stare that literally sent chills down Lincoln's spine. He could feel the tears start to well up in his eyes again as he gently brushed his thumb across Michael's swollen and bruised cheek. Unable to take it any longer, Lincoln sighed and pressed Michael's head back to his chest.

"Michael…lunch won't be ready for another 45 minutes. Why don't you take your brother upstairs and show him your room." Michael's foster mother suggested.

"That's a good idea." Ms. Davis agreed. "Mrs. Tierney and I have some things to discuss before I leave and then I'll be back to pick you up, Lincoln, around four o'clock."

Michael's head popped up when he heard this and he gave Lincoln a surprised look. Apparently no one had told Michael that Lincoln wouldn't be staying. Or if they had…he didn't believe them.

"Yeah…OK." Lincoln replied, taking Michael by the hand. "Come on buddy. Let's see your room."

Michael hung his head in disappointment and began to walk from the room. As Lincoln moved to follow him, Ms. Davis reached out and gently patted Lincoln's back.

"Remember what we talked about Lincoln." She reminded him in a quiet voice.

Lincoln nodded.

Her instructions had been simple. Don't ask Michael any questions about the incident at his previous home. It was too soon. Michael had yet to open up to anyone about what had happened that day. And while everyone involved, especially the police, were hoping he would eventually confide in his older brother…no one wanted to push him and traumatize him further.

"_Give him time." _Ms. Davis had told Lincoln_. "He'll talk when he's ready,"_

Lincoln followed his brother upstairs and down a long hallway that lead to Michael's bedroom. When they reached the room, Lincoln noticed a colorful homemade sign on the door that read "Welcome Michael."

"Hey. That's cool." Lincoln commented. "There are other kids here?"

"Just more fosters." Michael stated matter of factly, opening the door and walking inside.

"I'm sure they don't like being called "fosters" any more than you do Michael." Lincoln reminded him as he followed his brother inside. "What are their names?"

Michael shrugged as he slumped himself down on the bed.

"You don't _know_?"

"I don't _care_." Michael shot back.

"Michael." Lincoln said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and frowning at his little brother.

"I don't!" Michael insisted. "I'm not staying here so why waste my time."

Lincoln sighed and took a seat on the bed beside his brother.

"Mike…I'm sorry. But you _are_ staying here."

Michael shook his head angrily.

"Yes Michael. But it's just for a little while. I promise!"

"Why?" Michael wailed. "Why can't I stay with you?"

"Because…You just can't Michael. Not yet."

"It's because of you!" Michael snapped at him angrily, sliding away from him on the bed. "You're always getting into trouble. That's why no one wants you! That's why we can't be together!"

It was the truth and it broke Lincoln's heart to hear Michael say it. So many homes…so many _good_ homes they had been placed in together and he had ruined it for them. If he had just behaved and thought of Michael for once, they'd still be together and Michael would never have been hurt.

"You're right," Lincoln admitting, getting up from the bed and kneeling in front of Michael. "I messed up Mikey. I know that."

"Then fix it!"

"Don't you think I want to!" Lincoln snapped at him.

Michael shoved Lincoln away from him and threw himself down on the bed, burying his face in the pillow. Lincoln instantly regretted snapping at his brother. It wasn't Michael he was angry at. Michael had done nothing wrong. He was angry at himself. He was angry and frustrated and once again…his anger was misdirected.

"Michael, I'm sorry I snapped at you." Lincoln said quietly, sitting on the bed beside Michael and rubbing his back softly. "I'm not angry with you, I'm angry at myself."

"I don't want to stay here." Michael mumbled into the pillow.

"I know." Lincoln replied. "But it's only for a little while. OK? I'm going to be eighteen in a few month and as soon as I am I'm going to do everything I can to get you back."

"How?" Michael asked him.

Lincoln sighed.

"I'm going to get a job. I'm going to do whatever I have to. But I'm going to do it Michael. I promise."

"I'm scared." Michael informed him, his face still buried in the pillow.

"You don't have to be scared.." Lincoln replied. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. They have me staying at the Cook County Boy's ranch. It's not that far from here. So I'm going to either see you or talk to you everyday. OK?"

"Promise me." Michael insisted, twisting onto his side and looking up at his brother hopefully.

"I promise you Michael."

_PRESENT_

Lincoln sighed as he rested his head back against the wall and stared up at the clock on the wall of the DOC Headquarters. Nearly two hours had passed since Durst and Pope had disappeared into the meeting room to meet with officials who would decide his brother's fate. Two hours… yet it seemed much longer. As he sat, nervously bouncing his right leg up and down and drumming his fingers on the arm of the hard wooden bench he sat in, he wondered if it was good news or bad that it was taking so long. _They were obviously giving Durst the time to make his case. They were listening to him. That had to be good. _He had almost convinced himself. _But then…did it really need to take that long to convince them? That couldn't be good. _

The wait and the worrying was driving Lincoln crazy. He was just about to get up and see if he could bum a smoke from someone in the building when the door to the conference room opened and Durst and Henry Pope walked out. They looked serious and tired (who wouldn't given the situation) but other than that, Lincoln couldn't tell by the looks on their faces whether things had gone as Durst had planned.

"What happened? What did they say?" Lincoln demanded as he jumped up from the bench and approached the two men.

"Nothing yet." Durst informed him. "They're deliberating. It could be a while."

"Great." Lincoln moaned, slumping back down on the bench.

"I'm going downstairs to get a cup of coffee. Do you want one?" He asked Lincoln.

Lincoln shook his head. Durst turned his attention to Pope.

"Thank you for your help Henry. Can I walk you out?"

"If it's all the same to you…I'd like to wait." Henry replied. "I'd like to hear what they decide."

Durst nodded and gave Henry a friendly pat on the back.

"Coffee?" He asked him.

"No…thank you. I'm fine." Henry replied.

"I'll be right back." Durst said, and walked off.

Henry placed his hands into the pockets of his sports coat and paced nervously for a moment in front of Lincoln before finally taking a seat beside him on the bench. The two sat in silence for a moment before Pope finally spoke.

"You know Lincoln…" He began hesitantly. "When I first met your brother I was so confused. He baffled me."

Lincoln turned and looked at Pope, who was staring straight ahead as he continued to speak.

"I mean…here was this young man…educated with a good job and a spotless record. He had his whole life ahead of him. And he threw it all away."

He turned to face Lincoln before adding…

"For you."

Lincoln closed his eyes and turned away. He really didn't need or appreciate being reminded that Michael had ruined his life for him. But Henry either didn't notice or didn't care that Lincoln was put off, and he continued right on speaking.

"…and I didn't get it. I really didn't."

"What's your point?" Lincoln finally snapped at him.

"I didn't think you were worth it Lincoln." Henry admitted.

"Well there's a shocker." Lincoln said snidely.

"I was wrong."

Shocked…Lincoln whipped his head back around to face Henry once again.

"I don't know how you did it." Henry said, shaking his head. "The things you had to deal with at eighteen, nineteen, twenty years old…the sacrifices you made…all so that Michael could have a chance."

"I didn't have a choice." Lincoln said modestly.

"Sure you did!" Pope replied. "You could have left Michael to the state."

Lincoln shook his head.

"That wasn't an option."

"Oh but it was." Henry insisted. "And it was an option that many in your position would have taken. But _you_ didn't."

"No…I didn't." Lincoln admitted. Then, lowering his head he added quietly, "Maybe I should have."

To be continued…

TBC


	31. Chapter 31

"Mr. Scofield I just have some forms for you to sign then you will be good to go." The pretty, young, administrator behind the desk advised him, rising from her chair and walking around to where he was seated.

"Thanks." Michael replied, managing a weak smile as he took the clipboard she handed him and began signing his name wherever he saw an "X".

"While you're signing those…I just have a quick question for the Doc." Lincoln informed him. "I'll be right back."

"What…Now?" Michael objected, stopping mid signature to address his brother.

"Yeah now. It'll just take two seconds." Lincoln reiterated and hustled off before Michael could object further.

Michael sighed and glanced nervously back up at the administrator, who gave him a sympathetic smile.

"You must be anxious to get out of here huh? She asked him.

"Yeah…you could say that." Michael replied and turned his attention back to the forms.

He had finished signing in all the indicated areas, but now that he nothing to do but wait for Lincoln, he occupied his time by pretending to actually read through the documents while simultaneously pretending _not_ to notice the dozen or so set of eyes that were staring at him. Literally every person who had passed him while he sat at the administration desk had stopped and done a double take- clearly surprised to see the infamous Michael Scofield sitting there, unguarded, in the hospital lobby.

It didn't help that the television mounted on the wall in the waiting area ten feet from where he was seated, was tuned to CNN, which apparently had devoted it's entire schedule that day to Michael's release and entire sordid saga of the Fox River eight.

Michael tapped his pen nervously on the clipboard and glanced nervously around the waiting room. Those who had been staring quickly shifted their focus elsewhere. Many turned their attention back to the television.

Despite his best efforts, Michael found his attention drawn to the TV as well. Headshots of the Fox River Eight were plastered up on the screen and as Michael watched, the camera zoomed in on one particular person…someone Michael had tried to block from his memory long ago.

_Willing accomplice or another innocent victim?_

…it read under the photograph of David "Tweener" Apolskis.

Michael could feel his heart start to race once again and could hear himself gasp David's name as he opened his mouth to take a much needed breath. He kept his eyes glued to the television screen as he slowly rose from his chair and with his clipboard still in hand, slowly made his way over to the sitting area where he could hear more clearly.

David's picture was gone now, replaced with a live shot of a young woman identified as his cousin, who was being interviewed by a reporter.

"_How do you feel about the announcement of Michael's Scofield's early release from Statesville Prison?"_ the reporter asked the young woman seated before her.

The girl, who appeared to be in her mid twenties, tilted her head and rolled her eyes in disgust.

"_I don't think it fair. I don't think it's fair at all_. _It's not right."_ she replied, her words coming quicker and more frantic as she continued. "_Innocent people died because of him…"_

"_Including David." _The reporter pushed.

"_Yes! Including David."_

"_But he was one of the escapees." _The reporter reminded her, as if the girl need to be reminded._ "But despite that…you still consider him an innocent victim. Why?"_

"_He was eighteen years old! He was just a kid!"_

Michael felt a hand grasp him firmly on the shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Whipping his head quickly to the right, he was relieved, albeit somewhat annoyed to see Lincoln standing there, frowning at him. Lincoln glanced quickly up at the television screen and shook his head.

"Jesus Michael…" he said quietly. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ignoring him, Michael turned his attention back to the television screen.

"_He used my cousin, just like he used everyone else." _The young woman continued

"Alright, that's enough." Lincoln insisted, grabbing Michael by the arm, trying to forcibly steer him back to his wheel chair. "Let's go."

Michael scowled and jerked his arm free.

"_He took advantage of David's fears…"_

"Don't do this to yourself Michael." Lincoln begged. "You don't need this right now. OK? We're going home. It's over!"

"_He could've helped him…he knew the Warden…"_

"Michael now!"

Lincoln hadn't meant to raise his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was draw even more attention to his brother. But that's exactly what he had done.

"Michael please…" Lincoln said quietly, leaning forward and grabbing Michael by both arms. "Let's just get out of here."

Michael tried to jerk himself loose once again, but he was apparently weaker than he thought. Overcome with dizziness he started to pitch forward, reaching out to brace himself on the sofa in front of him. A man sitting on the sofa jumped up as though Michael were carrying some infectious disease and gave him a disgusted look.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Lincoln spat at him.

"Not much." The man shot back.

"Yeah?" Lincoln countered. "You want to come around to the other side of this sofa and say that again pal?"

"Is that a threat?" the man asked.

"You're damn right it is!"

"Oh I would so love to see your ass thrown back in jail where it belongs Burrows. So why don't you go ahead and try it!"

"Lincoln…" Michael said, turning his head to face his brother while continuing to support himself on the sofa. "Shut up."

"Come on tough guy!" the man taunted.

Lincoln opened his mouth to fire back, but was interrupted by William Durst, who had heard the commotion as he entered the lobby and quickly rushed to where the brothers were standing.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"You better control your client!" The man shouted, pointing a finger at Lincoln. "He's crazy!"

"And you're an asshole!" Lincoln shouted back.

"Lincoln!" Durst said, grabbing Lincoln firmly by his upper arm. "Go wait in the car!"

"I'm not going anywhere without Michael." Lincoln insisted.

"I –said-go-wait-in-the- car." Durst repeated, dragging out each word for added emphasis.

Lincoln scowled, turned, and walked over to where Michael had left his wheelchair. He began wheeling it over, but Durst met him halfway and grabbed the wheelchair from him angrily.

"What did I just say! I cannot believe you Lincoln. What the hell were you thinking?" He admonished him.

Lincoln felt like a little boy being scolded by his father. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him like that and as much as he hated it, Lincoln realized he deserved it.

"I'm sorry." Lincoln said. "I wasn't thinking."

"That's your problem Lincoln…you never think. You just react!"

"I know. It's just Michael…"

"What to you think is going to happen to Michael if you get your ass thrown back in jail for assault?" Durst asked him.

"I'm not going to break you out again, that's for sure." Michael said coolly, breezing by them on his way to the administration desk to return his forms.

Lincoln and Durst exchanged surprised looks. Neither one had realized Michael had been listening to them. They quickly walked over to him, Durst still pushing Michael's wheel chair.

"Michael, have a seat." Durst instructed him.

"Are you alright buddy?" Lincoln asked.

"I'm fine!" Michael snapped at him. "And I prefer to walk out if you don't mind."

"Sure Michael. Whatever you want." Durst acquiesced.

"And please stop treating me like some fragile mental case. Alright?" Michael added as he brushed by them on his way out the door. "It's not helping."

To be continued…


	32. Chapter 32

_FLASHBACK 1988_

Lincoln smiled as he pulled the few remaining Nintendo cartridges from the dusty storage box and placed them on the shelf of the small TV stand he had set up in then new room he would be sharing with Michael. They system was used and the TV small, but he knew Michael would appreciate a video game system of his very own. They could never afford one before.

This particular system and assorted games had been purchased for fifty bucks off one of Lincoln's doper friends who was looking for some quick cash to score some drugs. If Lincoln hadn't been so excited at the prospect of surprising Michael with such and extravagant gift, he might actually have felt guilty about taking advantage of the poor kid. But he knew Michael would love it and this particular kid was a real ass. So he didn't care.

Lincoln tossed the empty box onto the bed and scanned the room. Beds were made, the inexpensive desk and bookshelf that he had picked up at Walmart were assembled and neatly stocked with pens, paper, books (mostly donated from Veronica) and everything his brainiac little brother would need. But there was something he was forgetting. He glanced over at the old bureau resting up against the far wall.

"Hey Vee!" he hollered, heading toward the bedroom door. "Where' that bag of clothes…"

But he didn't get to finish his thought. As soon as he stepped out of the bedroom and into the small living room, his face and lungs were assaulted with a fine mist of flowery smelling spray as Veronica ran past him with a spray can in hand.

Lincoln gagged and coughed, waving his hand in front of his face in a futile attempt to ward off the offending mist.

"Vee!" he sputtered. "What the…?"

"Sorry!" Veronica said apologetically, dropping the spray can to her side.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

"I'm _trying_ to get rid of that awful cigarette smell! Lincoln, I told you not to smoke in here. What's the social worker going to think?"

"I'm nervous. OK? When I'm nervous I smoke. Besides…I don't smell anything."

"Yeah well…you wouldn't." She informed him.

"It's not that bad." Lincoln insisted. Then taking a sniff himself he asked. "Is it?"

Veronica wrinkled her nose in disgust and shrugged her shoulders.

"Dammit!" Lincoln exclaimed as he sprinted across the room to the nearest window. "Now you've got me all paranoid."

"Well you should have listened to me." She replied.

"Alright! Alright! Enough already." He pleaded with her as he knelt on the worn couch and slid the living room window open widely. It was then that he noticed the beat up station wagon, he recognized as belonging to Michael social worker pull up in front of the apartment building.

"He's here!" Lincoln cried out excitedly as he jumped off the couch.

"Already?" Veronica asked. "They're early."

"No." Lincoln replied, glancing at his watch. "We're late. Very, very late."

Lincoln worked quickly to gather up the empty soda cans and remnants of their pizza lunch from the countertop and deposit it in the trash before turning his attention back to Veronica.

"OK…You gotta go."

"What? Why?" Veronica complained. "I wanna see Michael too."

"I know you do." Lincoln replied giving her a sympathetic smile. "But what's the social worker going to think if she walks in here and sees I already have girlfriends in the house?"

"_Girlfriends_?" Veronica parroted, placing her hands on her hips. "You got another girlfriend I don't know about?"

The sound of a car door slamming outside caught Lincoln's attention and he quickly glanced out the window again. Michael's social worker was circling the car to meet Michael, who had opened the rear door and was climbing out.

"Look, can you just go?" Lincoln begged. "Please! You can come back tonight. I promise."

"Oh fine!" Veronica huffed and began making her way to the front door. But Lincoln quickly reached out and grabbed her.

"Not out the front! She'll see you."

"Oh for cryin' out loud Lincoln. She doesn't even know me." Veronica reasoned as Lincoln anxiously guided her toward the exit in the kitchen. "For all she knows I could be visiting someone else in this building."

"Yeah well…Michael does know you." Lincoln countered as he opened the door and gently shoved her out. "I'll call you when she's gone."

Lincoln started to close the door but Veronica quickly reached out and held it with her hand.

"Linc!"

"What?"

Veronica tilted her head and gave him a pouty look.

"I love you."

"I love you too." He replied, leaning forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "Now beat it!"

"You're welcome!" Veronica said loudly and sarcastically as Lincoln closed the door in her face. He felt guilty rushing her out like that. Especially after she had spent the last two days helping him prepare for Michael's arrival. But she couldn't be there. He knew and she knew it.

His guilt quickly subsided however, when the buzzer on the wall alerted him to the fact that Michael was waiting for him just outside the front door of the building. Lincoln quickly sprinted for the door, pausing only long enough to hit the button on the wall, buzzing Michael in.

Lincoln took the steps four at a time as he bounded down the stairs toward his little brother. He nearly ran the poor child over as Michael arrived on the 3rd floor landing just as Lincoln leapt halfway down the staircase in front of him him.

"Lincoln!" Michael cried excitedly as he dropped his small suitcase on the ground and leapt into the outstretched arms of his equally excited older bother.

"Hey!" Lincoln replied, wrapping his arms around his tiny brother and swinging him around excitedly. "I told you I was going to get you back. Didn't I tell you!"

"Phew!" Ms. Davis exaggerated her exhaustion as she finally caught up to Michael on the landing. "I think I need to start utilizing that Stair Master again Michael. I couldn't keep up with you! You sprinted up those stairs so fast!"

Michael smiled at her as Lincoln set him back down on the ground.

"Let me tell you…I think that was the longest 20 minute car ride of Michael's life." She stated, reaching out and ruffling Michael's hair. "You thought we were never going to get here. Didn't you?"

Michael blushed, burying his face into Lincoln's chest as he wrapped his arms tightly around Lincoln's waist once again.

"Well I'm excited too!" Lincoln exclaimed. "I can't wait for you to see the place Michael."

"Well…lead on then." Ms. Davis replied.

Lincoln took his little brother by the hand and led him up the staircase to their tiny fifth floor apartment.

"It's not much." he commented as he swung open the front door. "But it's ours."

Michael stepped into the apartment and looked around with wide-eyed anticipation. There wasn't really much to see. The apartment basically consisted of just two rooms: A combination living room/dining room and one bedroom. Most of the furniture was used, either bought at the local consignment shop or donated from neighborhood friends. But from the look on Michael's face, you'd think he had just stepped into a five star resort.

"This looks wonderful Lincoln." Ms. Davis commented. "You've done a nice job."

"Hey Mikey…check out the bedroom." Lincoln instructed. "There are a couple of surprises in there for you."

Michael's eyes lit up and he dashed into the bedroom. By the time Lincoln and Ms. Davis had entered, Michael was already seated at the new desk, eagerly exploring all the drawers that Lincoln had carefully stocked with supplies.

"What do think?" Lincoln asked him excitedly. "I'll have you know this is the only new piece of furniture in the whole place."

"I love it!" Michael exclaimed, standing up as he marveled at all the books Lincoln had carefully arranged on the upper shelves.

"Those aren't new." Lincoln pointed out. "They were donated by a friend. But I thought you might like them."

"I do. I love to read."

"I know. And look…" Lincoln said, carefully taking Michael by the shoulders and guiding him away from the desk. "Video games!"

"Wow!" Michael said, crossing the room and dropping to his knees in front of the small TV stand. "How did you afford this?"

"Yes Lincoln. How _did_ you afford that?" Ms. Davis parroted.

Lincoln smiled smugly.

"I have my ways." He informed them. But when Ms. Davis flashed him a skeptical look he added. "I bought it off a friend who didn't use it anymore. It was real cheap."

"I'll tell you what." Ms. Davis began, turning her attention back to Michael. "Why don't you test out that new game system while your brother and I chat in the living room."

The suggestion seemed to upset Michael who slumped his shoulders and frowned. In the past, whenever an adult had separated the boys to talk to Lincoln…it usually meant one of them was in trouble.

"Why can't I come and chat?" Michael challenged.

Ms. Davis smiled. If there was one thing she had learned about Michael Scofield, it was that he was one smart little boy.

"No. You stay here." She instructed him. "It'll only take a minute and then I'll leave you two alone. I promise."

She took Lincoln by the arm and led him out of the room before Michael had a chance to object further. Closing the door behind them, she turned her attention back to Lincoln.

"Look, if this is about the Nintendo system. I _didn't_ steal it. I really did buy it off a friend." He insisted.

"It's not about the Nintendo system." She replied. "I just…"

"You can smell the smoke. Can't you?" he said nervously. "It was just one cigarette. I was nervous. It won't happen again. No more smoking in the apartment. I promise."

"Lincoln relax!" Ms. Davis exclaimed, trying to stifle her laughter. "It's _not_ about the smoke. Although, you're right, I _can_ smell it and you shouldn't be smoking in the apartment."

"Oh…" Lincoln said, blushing as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What did you want to talk to me about then?"

Ms. Davis walked over the to the dining table and began rifling through her purse.

"I wanted to give you these." She said, handing Lincoln a small prescription bottle.

"What's this?" Lincoln asked, taking the bottle from her.

"It's Michael's prescription."

"Prescription for what?" Lincoln snarled at her as he rolled the offending bottle in his hand.

"Lincoln…your brother's been through a lot. He's been anxious and having trouble sleeping."

"Of course he's anxious!" Lincoln snapped at her. "You people have been moving him around so god damn much!"

"There's nothing to get upset about Lincoln." Ms. Davis insisted. "The pills are for you to have just in case. You only need to give him one at bedtime …"

"I'm not drugging my brother."

"…and only if he needs it."

"He won't." Lincoln informed her, tossing the bottle at her.

Unfazed by Lincoln's attitude, Ms. Davis caught the bottle and set it down on the table. She then reached into her bag and pulled a piece a paper.

"I'm going to leave this with you too. It's the name and phone number of the psychiatrist Michael's been seeing. He uh…prescribed the medication."

"My brother doesn't need to see a stupid shrink!"

"Lincoln…"

"And if he does it's your damn fault!"

"Fine Lincoln. I'm not going to fight with you about this. I'll just leave these here and we can discuss it another time." She said calmly, placing the slip of paper down on the table next to the meds. Then, taking a step closer to him and lowering her voice she added, "Because you and I both now Michael has his ear pressed to that bedroom door and is listening to every word we say."

Lincoln glanced sadly at the bedroom door. He could clearly picture his small brother on the other side, hanging on their every word.

"I'll just go say goodbye to Michael and then I'll leave you two alone."

Ms. Davis walked over to the bedroom and Lincoln was relieved when she knocked, then waited a moment, giving Michael plenty of time to move away from the door.

"Okay sweetheart…" Ms. Davis said sweetly as she opened the door and entered the room. "I'm leaving now."

Lincoln followed her into the room and saw Michael laying on one of the beds, glaring at the approaching social worker.

"I'll see you soon." Ms. Davis said, sitting herself down on the side of the bed and brushing Michael's hair back from his eyes. "You have my number if need anything."

"I won't." Michael stated adamantly and Lincoln couldn't help but smile. She was right. Michael had definitely been listening.

"I'll let myself out." She said, getting up from the bed and exiting the room. "You boys be good."

Lincoln watched her as she gathered up her purse from the dining table and walked out the front door. When she was gone, he sighed and walked over to the bed.

"You know…this is actually _my_ bed." He told Michael, who was looking up at him.

"I know." Michael replied quietly.

Lincoln smiled.

"Scoot over." He instructed and when Michael complied, he laid down on the bed next to him so they were face to face.

"Do you think there is something wrong with me Linc?" Michael asked him.

"Absolutely not." Lincoln shot back assuredly.

"They do." Michael said quietly, lowering his eyes as his bottom lip started to quiver and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Well, that's because they don't know you like I do." Lincoln insisted, using his thumb to brush the tears from Michael's cheek.

"Do I have to take that medicine?"

"Do you want to take that medicine?"

Michael shook his head.

"I don't think I'm going to have any trouble sleeping if you're here." Michael insisted.

"Well then, it looks like your not going to need that medicine. Because I promise you…I'm not going anywhere Michael. No one is going to separate us again."

_PRESENT_

"Take it." Lincoln instructed, holding out his palm.

Michael, who was sitting up on the bed in the basement room of LJ's home, looked down at the pills in his brother's hand, then back up Lincoln.

"What is it?" he mumbled at him.

"Just something to help you sleep." Lincoln informed him.

Michael shook his head.

"I don't need it." He insisted.

Lincoln glanced over at the clock on the cable box and back at his brother.

"It's two in the morning Michael."

"So go to sleep." Michael replied with a chuckle.

"This isn't funny. You just got out of the hospital. You need to sleep."

"I will. Eventually."

"Just take em'. Please?' Lincoln begged, shoving his hand further into Michael's face.

Michael scowled and snatched the pills from his brother's hand. Pleased, Lincoln smiled and handed him a bottle of water.

After he had washed the pills down and tossed the water bottle back at his brother, Michael folded his arms across his chest defiantly and stared across the darkened bedroom.

"Scoot over." Lincoln said, setting the water bottle down on the nightstand. Michael said nothing but obediently slid over to the far side of the king size bed. Lincoln sat down and swung his legs up onto the bed. Pulling his knees up to comfortable position he sighed again as he rested his head against the headboard. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, Michael finally spoke.

"So how long are these stupid things supposed to take to work." He asked with an indignant tone.

"Dunno." Lincoln shot back, ignoring Michael's attitude. "You going somewhere?"

"No. You?"

"Nope."

To be continued…


	33. Chapter 33

"Stop calling this number!"

Amber McCall slammed the phone down on the counter top and ran her hands through her hair in frustration. Seated at the counter, an exhausted Lincoln gave his future daughter in a law a sympathetic smile as he took a sip of his black coffee.

"Seriously…what is wrong with these people?" She asked him as she picked up a bowl off the counter and took out her frustration by furiously whipping away at the pancake batter within.

"I'm sorry." Lincoln said.

Amber shook her head.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." She reminded him. "It's just… It's barely 8:30 in the morning and they've been calling non-stop for the past hour."

"Unplug the fuckin' phone." LJ suggested as he walked into the kitchen and dropped the morning paper in front of his father. "Uncle Mike made the front page again." he informed them tapping his finger on the front page.

"Great! I'll rush right downstairs and tell him. I'm sure he'll be thrilled." Lincoln replied sarcastically, sliding the offending paper away from him in disgust.

"We shouldn't have to unplug our phone." Amber insisted. "They should just…"

The phone on the counter began ringing again and Amber slammed her mixing bowl onto the counter.

"…STOP CALLING! DAMMIT!"

She reached to grab the phone but LJ grabbed it first and held up his finger to keep her quiet. On the third ring, he clicked the "on" button and brought the handset to his ear.

"Empire Records. Open till midnight. This is Marc." He said cheerfully into the receiver as he flashed his family a wicked smile. He paused a moment to listen, then clicked the phone off and tossed it onto the counter. "Huh? I guess they had the wrong number."

"Empire Records?" Lincoln said quizzically.

"Great movie." Michael said, emerging from the basement.

"Hey buddy. How did you sleep?" Lincoln asked as Michael slid himself onto the stool beside him.

"Fine. Once those meds kicked in." Michael replied groggily.

"Yeah?" Lincoln tilted his head, scrutinizing his brother's appearance. "You still looked wiped out man."

"Are you hungry?" Amber asked him. "I'm making pancakes."

"Not really. But I uh…could use some coffee if there's any left." Michael replied, ignoring Lincoln's observation and the fact that he was still staring.

"Of course." She replied, reaching into the cupboard to grab him a mug.

"You should really try to eat something Michael." Lincoln informed him.

"Please don't start lecturing me Lincoln." Michael moaned, burying his face in his hands.

"I'm not lecturing. I'm just saying."

"And I'm just saying…don't start!" Michael griped, taking the cup of coffee Amber had just poured him and leaving the counter.

Lincoln frowned and watched as his brother slid the sliding glass door to the patio open and disappear outside. When he was gone, he turned back to the LJ and Amber.

"OK…What did I do?"

"Don't get upset Dad." LJ said shaking his head.

"I'm not upset!" Lincoln shot back loudly and defensively. "I'm just trying to figure out what the hell I did to deserve the attitude!"

"You're yelling." LJ pointed out.

"I'm not…Never mind." He huffed, getting up from the counter and making his way toward the patio door.

"Just let him be." LJ advised.

Lincoln ignored the suggestion, brushing LJ off with a wave of his hand as he too disappeared out the sliding glass door.

Once outside, he found his little brother, lounging in one of the low Adirondack chairs on the deck, slowly sipping his morning coffee and staring into the woods that surrounded LJ's back yard.

"It's nice out here huh?" Lincoln said, walking over to Michael and taking a seat in the chair beside him.

Michael said nothing, continuing to sip his coffee.

"Nice and private…quiet." He set his own coffee down on the deck beside him and reached into the breast pocket of his shirt to retrieve his cigarettes. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, before turning his attention back to Michael.

"You feel like talking?" Lincoln asked him, exhaling a steady stream of smoke from his lungs in the process.

"Nope."

"OK." He conceded, casually reaching forward to fan the cigarette smoke away from Michael's face. A simple act, but one that Michael apparently found humorous. He smiled for the first time all morning and shook his head.

"Something funny?" Lincoln asked him.

Michael said nothing but continued to laugh.

"You wanna fill me in?" Lincoln asked with a chuckle. He had no idea what was amusing Michael so much…but it sure as hell beat the attitude he was on the receiving end of a few moments ago.

"Nothing. It's just… I've spent five years locked in a maximum security prison. I've been beaten, shot and tasered. Yet you still find it necessary to fan the cigarette smoke from my face as if I were ten years old again."

Lincoln smiled. Not that it was particularly funny. It was sad in fact. How he longed for the days when his biggest concerns for Michael's welfare had been second hand smoke.

"Well, what can I say? Old habits die hard. I guess you'll just have to get used to it again."

"Yeah. I guess so." Michael said quietly, then turned to face his brother. "I'm sorry Linc. I don't know why I snapped at you in there."

"Forget about it? Lincoln replied, shaking his head. "I have."

"Baby coming out!" LJ announced, sliding open the kitchen door and stepping out onto the deck with Veronica in his arms.

Lincoln quickly stomped on his cigarette and began fanning the surrounding air furiously to disperse the lingering smoke from the air. This time, Michael joined him.

"Hey baby girl!" Lincoln beamed as Veronica squealed with excitement and reached for the outstretched arms of her Grandfather.

"No arguing in front of the child." LJ warned them. "New rule."

"We're not arguing." Michael assured him, smiling as he gazed at his grand niece. "Wow! She's gotten so big." he noted.

"Yeah she has." Lincoln replied, taking the baby into his arms and greeting her with a barrage of kisses on the crook of her neck. Veronica squealed even louder and wrapped her tiny arms around Lincoln's neck.

"You want to hold her Uncle Mike?" LJ offered

"Oh…No. No, I don't think so." Michael said nervously, taking a step back.

"Oh, come on Mikey. She's not going to break!" Lincoln teased.

"Maybe later…when she used to me being around." Michael reasoned.

"Suit yourself." Lincoln shrugged and took his seat, setting Veronica in his lap.

"Alright…"LJ said, clapping his hands together. "You two are on baby watch. Amber and I are going to get the kitchen cleaned up and then we're heading out to run a few errands."

"The media still camped out front?" Lincoln asked.

"Yeah." LJ confirmed. "But we can handle them."

"Be careful." Michael interjected as he returned to his seat.

"Yeah. If they start following you…just stay cool. Don't try to outrun them or anything." Lincoln added.

"Yeah. Yeah." LJ said, rolling his eyes as he headed back toward the door.

"Hey! I'm serious man!" Lincoln said emphatically.

"I'll be careful! Don't worry about it." LJ assured them before disappearing back into the house.

"I feel bad." Michael said when LJ was gone. "I've turned their lives upside down. They can't even be normal kids."

"No." Lincoln said, shaking his head. "You didn't do anything. If anyone's to blame it's me. I take full responsibility for what's happened to LJ…_and_ you."

Michael smiled and reached his hand out to Veronica and gently stroked her arm.

"He's got a beautiful family though."

"Yeah." Lincoln agreed. "I gotta hand it to my kid. He sure knows how to kick adversities ass!

Michael laughed.

"He takes after his dad."

"_And_ his uncle." Lincoln added.

"I don't know about that."

"I do. You are the strongest person I know Michael."

Michael scoffed and sunk down lower in his chair.

"I'm serious!" Lincoln insisted. "You've been through some serious shit. But you made it! And now it's time to start over. Start living again…start a family of your own."

"I don't even know where to begin." Michael replied solemnly.

"Well, I can help you out with the family part." Lincoln joked. "I got Sarah's number in my wallet. You can give her a call right now."

Michael laughed, reached over and punched his brother's arm.

"Yeah right!"

"You don't believe me?" Lincoln continued to tease, holding Veronica with one arm as he leaned forward to retrieve his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

"No I believe you have it." Michael laughed. "It's just…"

He trailed off and his face suddenly turned serious. Lincoln sunk back into his chair and gave his brother a sympathetic smile

"…I'm not ready for that yet. You know?"

"I know." Lincoln replied.

"I'm just…I'm no good for her. Not now."

"Maybe not now." Lincoln agreed. "But you _will_ be. And for the record…I know for a fact that she's willing to wait."

TBC


	34. Chapter 34

"Michael. MICHAEL!" Lincoln exclaimed, sliding onto his knees in front of his brother who had backed himself into a corner of the darkened bedroom…crouched like a frightened child with his hands crossed over his head for protection.

He had heard his brother's cry from the living room, which was directly above Michael's bedroom, and had nearly fallen headlong down the stairs in his race to get to him.

"Michael…" he repeated, lowering his voice as he reached out apprehensively and placed a hand on Michael's arm.

Michael's reaction to his touch was not one Lincoln had expected. He cried out once again, swinging his arms widely in front of himself and Lincoln had to maneuver quickly to avoid contact with Michael's fists.

He knew Michael was still asleep. Still trapped in some nightmare that Lincoln couldn't even begin to imagine. He'd seen his brother react this is way before. But that was when he was a child. It frightened him beyond belief to see his brother reacting this way now.

"Michael wake up!" Lincoln begged. He quickly grabbed Michael by his forearms, then crossing the younger mans arms across his chest he pressed him into the wall with a little more force than he had intended. Michael's head snapped back and slammed against the wall with a sickening thud.

Michael winced in pain, blinked, and then looked up at his brother with a dazed expression on his face and tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Shit!" Lincoln groaned, releasing his grip on Michael's arms. "Michael…I'm sorry! Come on buddy. Talk to me."

"Linc?"

Lincoln sighed with relief and reached out with his left hand to firmly grip his Michael's shoulder.

"Yeah. It's just me."

"What…?" Michael began.

"You were dreaming." Lincoln informed him.

Michael hung his head as he reached across his chest to pull Lincoln hand from his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." His said almost inaudibly.

"Hey…Michael, it's OK." Lincoln insisted, reaching out again to comfort his still trembling brother.

"It's not OK!" Michael spat back, shoving Lincoln away. "Don't! Don't touch me. OK? Please don't touch me."

Stunned, Lincoln threw his hands up in the air as if to surrender and leaned back to increase the space between himself and Michael. He wanted to help him…to comfort him. But he had no idea what to say or do.

"Dad?"

Lincoln whipped his head to left and saw his son, standing on the stairs looking concerned.

"LJ…"

"Oh Jesus!" Michael moaned, dropping his head to his knees and throwing his arms over his head once again.

"LJ…go upstairs." Lincoln ordered.

"Go away. Please go away." Michael was whispering, only loud enough for Lincoln to hear.

"LJ…"Lincoln began again.

"Dad…is everything OK?"

Lincoln looked over at Michael, who was still hiding himself shamefully in the corner, then back at his son. He knew that Michael didn't want LJ to see him like this. He had to get rid of him.

"Everything is fine. Just go back to bed."

"But…"

"LJ! Go back to bed!" Lincoln said sternly. "Please!"

LJ glanced on final time at his uncle, who was still huddled in the corner, before following Lincoln's instructions and retreating back up the stairs. When he was gone, Lincoln turned his attention back to Michael.

"He's gone Michael. All right? It's just you and me."

"Just go away Linc. Please." Michael said quietly as he continued to obscure the pained expression on his face by keeping his forehead pressed into his knees and his arms over his head. "I'm fine."

"This is not fine Michael." Lincoln informed him, slumping back against the wall and stretching his aching legs out in front of him. "This is _far_ from fine."

"So what..?" Michael said casually, dropping his arms to his side and finally raising his head. "You gonna sit there all night?"

" Are you going to _force_ me to sit here all night?" Lincoln shot back quickly.

"You can do what you want." Michael replied defiantly as he pushed himself up off the floor and headed off toward the bathroom.

"You need help Michael! You can't do this by yourself."

"Do what?" Michael asked, stopping halfway across the room and turning to face his brother. "Go to the bathroom. I think I can handle it. Thanks."

"God dammit Michael!" Lincoln sprang up off the floor and barreled his way toward Michael. He had reached his braking point and was ready to take his anger and frustration out on someone…even if that someone was his own brother.

His fury did not go unnoticed by Michael, who quickly turned and ran into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him.

"Michael!" Lincoln bellowed, banging the door with his fist. "Michael, you open this door right now!"

He heard the a thump and saw the door rattle on it's hinges. Michael was clearly trying to brace the door with is own body weight. But Lincoln didn't care. He was stronger than Michael and outweighed him. One way or another…he was getting into that room.

"Michael, I will break the fucking door down. I swear to God!"

Michael made a noise on the other side of the door and Lincoln couldn't tell if he was crying or just struggling with all his strength to brace the door. He pounded the door several more times, trying to convince himself that, at this point…he didn't care. When that didn't work, he took a few steps back and slammed into the door with his shoulder.

"Linc Please!" Michael begged from the other side. But the sound of his brother's voice and his continued unwillingness to open the door on his own accord only infuriated Lincoln even more.

He took a few steps back and was preparing himself for another assault on the door, when he felt someone grab him firmly by the arm. In his manic attempt to extricate Michael from the locked bathroom, he hadn't even noticed his son re-enter the room.

"What the hell are you doing?" LJ hollered at him. "Are you out of your mind?"

"LJ…I told you to go to bed!" Lincoln hollered back, jerking his arm free from his son's grasp and slamming his shoulder into the bathroom door once again.

"That's enough!" LJ shouted, sliding himself between his father and the door.

"Move out the way LJ." Lincoln ordered.

"And let you break my fuckin' door? I don't think so." LJ replied with a manic chuckle.

"LJ!"

"He doesn't want to talk to you Dad. Let it go!"

Lincoln scowled and shook his head.

"No! He needs…"

"What he _needs_ is for you to leave him alone and let it go!" LJ reiterated.

Lincoln clenched his jaw and balled his fists as LJ held his breath, waiting for his father's next move. But with his son standing his ground in front of the door, and Michael refusing to open the door from the other side, Lincoln finally realized he was fighting a losing battle. He pounded the wall opposite the door with his fist before storming off up the stairs.

LJ sighed with relief and turned, pressing his ear and one hand to the bathroom door.

"He's gone Uncle Mike." He whispered. "OK? Everything's cool. So…so just relax."

Michael didn't reply, but LJ could here his muffled sobs from the other side of the door. He wanted to do something more…something to calm him…to comfort him. But he knew what his uncle needed at the moment, was to be left alone.

"I'm leaving too Mike. OK? I'm going upstairs."

LJ kept his hand pressed to the door a minute longer, hoping his uncle could feel his support through the cold wood, before allowing it to fall to his side as he turned and walked away.

"LJ."

He was almost halfway across the room when he heard his uncle's voice. Or at least, he thought he did. It was so faint, he wasn't quite sure.

"Yeah?" he replied, still not positive he hadn't imagined it.

"Thanks."

LJ smiled.

"You're welcome. Try and get some sleep."

Lincoln was seated at the kitchen counter nursing a beer when LJ finally emerged from the basement. Amber was there as well, seated beside her future father-in-law and gently rubbing his back in an effort to console him.

"Hey…" Amber said, sliding off the stool and crossing the room to greet LJ with a hug. "Is he alright?"

"He'll be fine." LJ reassured her.

"You think so. Huh?" Lincoln said sarcastically, not bothering to look up at his son as he took another sip of his beer.

"Yeah." LJ insisted. "I _do_ think so, although your behavior certainly isn't helping the situation any."

Lincoln ignored the blatant reprimand and continued to down his beer.

Furious, LJ walked over and snatched a piece of paper off the corkboard beside the telephone. He then approached his father and slammed the paper onto the countertop in front of him.

"I think you need to call him."

Curious, Lincoln picked the piece of paper up and looked at it. He then rolled his eyes and tossed it back down onto the counter.

"What for? Michael won't talk to him."

"I didn't say anything about Michael." LJ snapped back. "I said _you_."

Lincoln scoffed at this, rolling his eyes.

"You want _me_ to talk to him. Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" LJ asked him.

"Maybe you should Lincoln." Amber added cautiously. "He may be able to help…"

"I don't _need _his help."

LJ laughed out loud at his father's declaration, shaking his head in disgust.

"Yeah…You've been saying that for the last twenty years."

The realization instantly struck Lincoln and he set his beer down on the counter and stood up to face his son.

"You've talked to him?"

"So what if I have?" LJ shot back.

"About me?" Lincoln asked, inching closer to his son -the anger clearly written all over his face.

"So what if I have? LJ repeated, not backing down.

"What did he say?" Lincoln demanded.

LJ smirked.

"That's privileged information Dad. Or haven't you heard of Doctor patient confidentiality."

"Don't fuck with me LJ! You are _not_ his patient!" Lincoln hollered, pointing his finger angrily at his son.

"Oh right!" LJ said sarcastically. "We couldn't have that. Oh no! Because that would mean you've once again managed to fuck up another member of this family!"

Lincoln heard the slap and felt the burning sensation on his palm before he even realized what he had done. It wasn't until he heard Amber scream and saw LJ looking up at him from the floor that he realized…he had hit his son.

"LJ…" Lincoln began, his voice cracking as he fought back his own tears. "LJ I'm sorry."

"Yeah?" LJ said angrily, pushing himself up off the floor. "Why don't you prove it then." LJ challenged his father before taking his fiancée's hand and exiting the room.

To be continued…


	35. Chapter 35

"Come in."

Dr. David Brighton scribbled some final notes and closed up the file he had been working on before looking up to find his secretary standing before him, looking somewhat distressed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Doctor. But uh…" she nervously glanced back at the door before adding, "Lincoln Burrows is here."

"Lincoln?" The Doctor replied, sounding shocked. "Is he alone?"

His secretary nodded her head.

"Yes. He's alone and he seems…I don't know." she paused, looking for the appropriate description. "Agitated. I guess. He wants to speak with you."

Dr. Brighton got up from his desk and crossed the room to where his secretary was still standing guard by the door as though she were afraid Lincoln would break in or something.

"It's OK Sally. Why don't you send him in."

"But you have a ten thirty appointment, it's already after ten." She reminded him.

"I know." Dr. Brighton said, nodding his head. "Just see if you ca get Ms. Marcus on her cell and tell her I apologize but I have an emergency situation…"

"With all do respect Doctor, Lincoln Burrows isn't even your patient. And the fact that he shows up in your office and demands to be seen hardly constitutes and emergency."

Brighton gave his secretary a knowing smile. It was unlike her to question his authority, but it was obvious Lincoln's attitude had tried her patience.

"I understand your position Sally. But you have to understand…I've waited nearly twenty years to speak with Lincoln Burrows. If I send him away now…he may never come back. He may not be my patient, but his brother and son are. I need to talk to him."

"Of course." She smiled at him apologetically. "I'll send him in."

"Thank you Sally."

Dr. Brighton sighed and walked over to his desk to grab his notebook. He then walked over to an armchair across the room and dropped the book onto a side table just as Lincoln walked in the door.

"Lincoln." He said, greeting Lincoln with a cordial smile.

"Dr. Brighton." Lincoln replied, not nearly as enthusiastically.

"Why don't you have a seat." He said, pointing to an overstuffed sofa along the wall.

Lincoln glanced at the couch and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He looked nervous and surprisingly timid. Not at all what the Dr. had expected.

"Or you could just stand." Brighton remarked casually. "Whatever makes you most comfortable. Can I get you a drink?" He asked, making his way over to a small refrigerator next to his desk.

"Nah. I'm good." Lincoln replied.

Dr. Brighton grabbed himself a water from the refrigerator and turned back to find Lincoln had taken him up on his offer and was now seated on the couch.

"Well…" Dr. Brighton began as he took a seat in the armchair across from Lincoln. "I'm not going to lie to you Lincoln. I'm quite surprised to see you here in my office."

"Yeah. You and me both." Lincoln replied, as he struggled to find a comfortable position amongst several large, decorative pillows on the couch.

Brighton watched with amusement as Lincoln continued to struggle with the offending pillows before finally giving up and tossing them onto the floor.

"Sorry." He mumbled apologetically.

"It's fine." Brighton assured him "I told you to make yourself comfortable."

"I uh…know I should have called first." Lincoln admitted.

"It usually helps." Brighton agreed.

"Well, to be honest with you. It was really a last minute decision."

"And what made you decide to stop by?"

"Can I smoke in here?" Lincoln asked, avoiding the Doctor's question.

"Sorry." Brighton said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid not."

"Great." Lincoln moaned as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and run his hands over his head.

"How's Michael doing?" Brighton asked, cutting to the chase.

"How do you think?" Lincoln replied, settling back on the couch once again.

"I don't know. That's why I asked." Brighton replied. "I haven't seen Michael in almost a year."

"You saw Michael in prison?" Lincoln asked, straightening up on the couch.

"I did."

"Why?"

"Why don't you answer my question first." Brighton suggested.

"I forgot the question." Lincoln lied.

Brighton smiled. He wasn't surprised by Lincoln's reluctance to cooperate even if he was the one who initiated this impromptu meeting.

"I asked you how your brother was."

Lincoln sighed and turned his head. He was clearly struggling.

"Not good." He finally admitted.

"No?" Brighton said and Lincoln shook his head. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

It seemed like a silly question. Of course Lincoln _wanted_ to talk about it. Why else would he be here? But Brighton had learned a long time ago, that just because someone wanted to do something…didn't me they could.

"I don't know how to help him." Lincoln said sadly.

"Well, I may be able to help you with that Lincoln. But first I have to know what you think Michael's problem is."

"His problem is…he's not himself anymore. I don't even know who he fuckin' is! It's like I'm walking on egg shells whenever I'm around him because I have no idea what's going to set him off!" Lincoln replied, getting more and more agitated as he continued to ramble on. "He doesn't eat! He doesn't sleep! I'm at my whit's end with him."

"I can understand your frustration and concern Lincoln. But Michael has been through a lot. It's going to take some time for…"

"I know what he's been through!" Lincoln insisted.

"Do you?" Brighton pressed.

"Yes! Do you? Lincoln shot back.

"We're not talking about me Lincoln. We're talking about you and Michael and how you can help him get through this."

"How can I help him if he won't even talk to me!" Lincoln practically shouted at him.

"Well what exactly is it that you want Michael to talk about Lincoln?" Dr. Brighton asked calmly.

Lincoln smirked.

"Don't fuckin' play these games with me man. You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about."

"You think so?"

"I know so. You saw Michael. You said so yourself. You saw him a year ago. That's right around the time…" Lincoln stopped and dropped his head.

"Go on." Brighton continued to press.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Lincoln asked quietly, not looking up at the doctor. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Perhaps." Brighton agreed. "But I'd like to hear you say it."

"Why?" Lincoln demanded to know, finally raising his head and looking the Doctor right in the eyes.

Brighton sighed and leaned forward in his chair.

"Because Lincoln, if you can't even _say _it…how the hell can you expect Michael to talk with you about it."

TBC


	36. Chapter 36

_FLASHBACK 1990_

Fourteen year old Michael Scofield sat in silence at the dinner table and watched as his older brother shoveled lasagna into his mouth and downed his second bottle of beer as though it were the last food and drink he would ever receive. At the other end of the table, Lisa acted as though she didn't notice Lincoln's unusual behavior as she fed Michael's infant nephew some nasty looking slop she insisted was cereal.

"So…" Michael finally spoke up as he pushed his food own food around aimlessly on his plate. "What did they want?"

Lincoln had arrived home about an hour earlier, after a late afternoon meeting with Michael's guidance counselor and Michael could tell he was upset. But rather than the yelling and screaming Michael had expected, Lincoln had disappeared into the bedroom with Lisa and locked the door. The two had emerged about 45 minutes later…just in time to get the lasagna out of the oven and sit down to a silent supper.

"What did they say?" Michael repeated when Lincoln ignored his first question. "What did I do?"

"Nothing. Eat you dinner." Lincoln replied without even bothering to look up at him.

"Am I trouble?" Michael continued to press.

"Did I say you were in trouble?" Lincoln snapped back, getting up from the table to get himself another beer.

"You haven't _said_ anything." Michael replied, twisting in his chair to face his brother. "That's the problem."

"Michael sweety…just eat your dinner. OK?" Lisa said calmly.

"I'm not hungry." Michael replied sullenly, pushing his plate forward.

"Eat your dinner Michael." Lincoln said, walking over and sliding Michael's plate back in front of him. "We're not going to tell you again."

"I said I don't want it!" Michael barked back defiantly, shoving the plate forward once again.

"God dammit Michael!" Lincoln hollered, slamming his fist down onto the table beside Michael with such force that the entire table shook and Lisa and Michael both simultaneously jumped in their seats. "I said eat your dinner!"

"Lincoln." Lisa admonished him without raising her voice, but giving him a stern glare. "You need to calm down."

Michael sat stiffly in his chair, his fists clenched in his lap as he tried to fight back the tears that were welling up in his eyes.

"Michael. You don't have to eat if you don't want to. It's OK." Lisa said, getting up from the table and taking his plate.

"Thanks for the fuckin' support Lisa. As usual!" Lincoln fumed. Then, grabbing his cigarettes from the top of the refrigerator, he stormed out the front door.

When he was gone, Lisa sighed and walked over to Michael and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. Michael took a deep breath and brushed the tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve, before looking up at her.

"I'm going to go talk to him. Keep an eye on LJ. OK?" She instructed.

Michael nodded, then watched as Lisa grabbed her apartment key off a hook by the front door and walked out.

Michael could feel himself still trembling. A combination of both anger and fear. He was used to being yelled at by Lincoln. That didn't bother him so much. It was the fact the Lincoln wouldn't tell him what he was upset about. That wasn't like him. Usually, Lincoln was more than willing to tell Michael when he had done something wrong.

He got up from the table and walked over to LJ, who was still seated in his high chair. Despite Lincoln's hollering, the baby seemed unfazed as he playfully slapped his hands on the tray of the chair and smiled up at his Uncle. Michael smiled back and tweeked the small boys cheek with his fingers.

"Here." Michael said, handing LJ some plastic teething toys. "Play with these. I'll take you out in a minute."

With LJ happily distracted with his toys, Michael made his way over to the window at the front of the room. Kneeling on the couch, he looked out the window and could see Lincoln and Lisa talking on the sidewalk below. They didn't appear to be fighting, although it was hard to tell. He was dying to know what they were talking about…but he knew he couldn't leave LJ alone to go down and find out. He briefly considered taking LJ with him, but quickly discarded that idea, realizing that they would only stop talking if Michael showed up.

He had all but given up when he suddenly remembered the intercom on the wall. Jumping off the couch Michael raced to the opposite wall with the intercom panel and pressed the "listen" button.

"_Lincoln you need to calm down. We don't even know if they're right." _Lisa's voice echoed through the speaker.

"_What if they are? Huh? I mean…what the fuck? How can he…? How can anyone live like that?"_

"_I don't know." _Lisa said softly. "_But listen…if they are right, and Michael does have this…this…"_

"_Low latent inhibition."_

"_Whatever! If he does have it…it's not like this is something Michael woke up with yesterday. He was born with it Lincoln. And you and I may not understand it, but to Michael…it's normal."_

"_There's nothing normal about your brain running on fucking overdrive 24/7 Lisa!"_

"_It's all he knows Lincoln!" _Lisa insisted. "T_o him it is normal. It's who he is!"_

"_But they said…they fuckin' said it could lead to…"_

Michael could hear the anguish in his older brother's voice and he could feel his own heart racing as he waited for Lincoln to complete his thought. But it was Lisa's voice he heard next.

"_It won't Lincoln. Michael is smart. He can deal with this. I know he can."_

"_What if he can't!"_

"_Stop saying that!"_

"_They're going to take him away from me." _Lincoln sobbed.

"_No."_

"_Yes…yes they are. They're going to take him from me and he's going to end up in some mental hospital. I know it!"_

Michael struggled to keep his finger firmly pressed on the button as his hands started to shake uncontrollably. He was terrified by what he was hearing…what they were saying…about him.

"_Listen…" _Lisa's voice was firm yet compassionate_. "Listen! You need to pull it together Lincoln."_

"_I can't." _Lincoln insisted between sobs. _"What if something happens to him? I promised my mother on he deathbed…I promised her I would take care of him. He's my responsibility!"_

"_And you are taking care of him. Listen…Nothing bad is going to happen to Michael. Not while he's with you. Do you hear me? You're going to do what the school suggests and take Michael for those tests. And if it turns out they are right, then they'll tell us how to deal with it and we will. End of story."_

Michael could hear his brother sigh and the sound of his feet scuffing along the pavement as he paced nervously outside the door.

"_I just want…"_ Lincoln began, his voice cracking as he tried to maintain some composure. _"I just wish I could be his brother again…just his brother not his father. It's too fuckin' hard!"_

"_I know." _Lisa replied sympathetically.

"_I miss him. I miss the way we used to be."_

"_I know."_ Lisa repeated_. "I know."_

PRESENT

"Dude! Are you fuckin' listening to me?"

LJ's voice broke Michael from his daze and he quickly turned his head.

"Huh?"

LJ laughed.

"I said those girls back in the store were totally checking you out."

Michael scoffed and turned his attention back out the passenger side window of LJ's car. He was pretending to be interested in the passing landscape, but really he just didn't want his nephew to see him blush. It didn't work.

"Look at how red your getting!"

"LJ…they were not checking me out." Michael insisted.

"Yeah…they totally were."

"No, they were merely staring because I'm Michael Scoffield."

"Yes…and you're fuckin' hot!" LJ replied. Then added quickly…"I can't believe I just said that about my own uncle."

"Oh please." Michael rolled his eyes. "I'm a freak show LJ. I'm like a bad accident on the side of the road. People can't help but stare. It has nothing to do with what I look like."

"If you say so." LJ conceded. "But I've been hearing it since I was fourteen years old. I know what I'm talking about."

"What are talking about?" Michael asked incredulously.

"Oh LJ! You're uncle is so….cute!" LJ mimicked, doing his best teenage girl impression. "How does he feel about younger women?"

"Shut up!" Michael laughed.

"Hey! It's what I had to deal with all through High School!" LJ informed him.

"That is just wrong on so many levels." Michael replied, shaking his head.

"You're telling me." LJ replied. "Welcome to my world!"

Michael shook his head once again.

"Damn it's hot in here." He said, changing the subject. "Doesn't this car have air conditioning?"

"You're blushing again." LJ teased.

"OK enough!" Michael begged.

"Fine! Fine!" LJ conceded.

"Thank you."

"But this was fun though. Huh?" LJ added as an afterthought. "I mean…I know we just went to the store but…you and me…hanging out. It's kinda like old times. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, it was kind of nice to get out of the house." Michael agreed.

"Dad is never going to believe it. You actually left the house. He's either going to be extremely happy or mad as hell at me."

"Why would he be mad you?" Michael asked him.

LJ shrugged.

" I dunno. I mean…he's been trying so hard."

"Too hard." Michael replied.

"Yeah maybe." LJ agreed. "But he's only been pushing so hard because he loves you. You know that. Right?"

Michael sighed.

"Yeah. I know. I just wish he could stop looking at me as his responsibility and start treating me like his brother. That's all I want."

"That's going to be tough Mike. I mean…you've always been his responsibility. It would be like me asking him to stop treating me like a son."

Michael smiled at LJ and turned to stare out the window once again. LJ was too young to remember. In fact, he hadn't even been born yet. But there was a time when Michael and Lincoln were merely brothers. It was a long time ago, when Michael was small and sometimes it was tough for _him_ to remember. But when he did…he was happy. Even if it was just for a short while.

To be continued…


	37. Chapter 37

Lincoln sighed as he sat on the edge of his bed and picked up a worn, framed photo from the nightstand. He smiled as he ran his finger across the old photo of a young Michael and LJ, taken at Michael's high school graduation. The two had always been really close, a fact that Lincoln had always been extremely happy about. That is until recently.

Over the past few weeks, it seemed as though the bond between Michael and LJ had grown, while Lincoln's bond with his brother seemed to be slipping away. He felt guilty about it, but Lincoln couldn't help but resent the closeness of their relationship. He couldn't understand why, when he was trying so hard to support his brother, it only seemed to push Michael further away.

Lincoln tried to put it out of his mind as he exited his bedroom and descended the staircase toward the living room. He was about halfway down the stairs when he glanced to the left and saw Michael on his hands and knees on the living room floor. Thinking something was wrong with his brother, Lincoln took the remaining eight or so steps in about two strides and rushed to his brother's side

"Michael!"

But he had apparently misinterpreted the strange situation he found his brother in. This was clearly evident when Michael, still on his hands and knees, turned his head and smiled up at his brother excitedly.

"Oh, hey Linc."

"Hey yourself." Lincoln replied, still confused. "Michael…what the hell are you doing?"

Michael looked confused himself for a moment. Then realized how silly he must appear kneeling on all fours on the floor. He laughed as he pushed himself up and settled back on his knees.

"Oh!" he chuckled, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm playing with Veronica." He explained as he pointed to his niece who was on the floor across the room in the exact same position Lincoln had found Michael in.

"From way over here?" Lincoln asked him. "That's weird Michael. Even for you."

"No, I'm just…" Michael began, but Lincoln ignored him.

"Hey baby girl!" He beamed as he took a step toward his granddaughter.

"No Linc! Wait!" Michael exclaimed and reached out, grabbing his brother by his pant leg.

"Michael." Lincoln laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Just wait!" Michael replied excitedly. "Wait and watch."

Lincoln looked back over at Veronica who squealed happily and began rocking back in forth on her hands and legs.

"There! There! There!" Michael exclaimed. "Do you see that? Do you see what she's doing?"

"Oh yeah!" Lincoln said smiling. "That's what LJ used to do right before he…"

"Yes!" Michael cried out happily.

"Oh my God!" Lincoln exclaimed, dropping to his hands and knees next to Michael on the floor. "Do you think she's going to do it?"

"I think so." Michael replied, settling forward on his hands and knees again. "I mean…it certainly looks that way right."

"Oh! My granddaughter is gonna crawl!" Lincoln said proudly.

"Look at her. She's just building up the momentum. That's all she needs." Michael reasoned. "That and a little bit of motivation."

"Come on baby girl." Lincoln pleaded, smiling happily at Veronica. "Come on! Come to Grandpa! You can do it."

"Just put on hand in front of the other." Michael coached.

But then, just as the excitement was really starting to build, Michael suddenly stopped, settled back onto his knees and sighed.

"What's wrong?" Lincoln asked, still smiling as he briefly glanced up at Michael.

"Well…I just realized…LJ and Amber are going to miss it. Veronica is about to crawl for the very first time and LJ and Amber aren't here to see it."

"Oh shit. You're right." Lincoln replied seriously. "Do you think we should stop?"

Michael considered this for a moment before turning to his brother and smiling mischievously. Lincoln smiled back.

"NAH!" They both said unison.

"What the hell." Michael said, getting back down onto his hands and knees. "She'll do it again."

"Absolutely!" Lincoln agreed.

The brothers laughed and turned their attention back to Veronica. On the floor, they excitedly tried to coax the baby to come to them. They were still at it when LJ walked through the door a few moments later.

"What are you doing?" He said, laughing at the absurd sight of his father and uncle on the floor.

"Oh good LJ. You're here! I don't think my conscious could have taken it if she had done this when you were gone." Lincoln said.

"What is going on?" LJ asked them, then turned his attention to his baby. "Hey Vee. What are you doing way over there?"

LJ started toward his daughter, which elicited howls of protest from both Michael and Lincoln.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Hold it right there kiddo." Lincoln instructed

"Huh?"

"LJ. Come on." Michael said, grabbing LJ's arm and pulling him back. "We're trying to keep the motivation down this end of the room. Work with us here! Please!"

"OK? Have you two been smoking something?" LJ wondered.

"What? No!" Lincoln insisted. "We're babysitting here. How are irresponsible do you think we are?"

LJ opened his mouth to respond but Lincoln quickly cut him off.

"Don't answer that."

LJ laughed.

"OK Fine. But I'm going to ask again. What are you doing?"

"Veronica's about to crawl." Michael exclaimed.

LJ tilted his head and glanced over at his daughter who was once again smiling and rocking back and forth on her hands and legs.

"Really? You think?"

"Absolutely." Lincoln insisted. "You see what she's doing there?"

"What? The rocking? She's been doing that for days."

"Yeah. Well that's what you did right before you crawled." Michael informed him.

"Exactly." Lincoln continued to explain. "So we figure…all she needs is a little bit of motivation and she'll crawl right over to us."

"Oh, I get it." LJ realized, dropping to his knees beside Michael. "Here…" he said, grabbing a stuffed Elmo doll from a basket of toys under the coffee table. "Use this. She loves this stupid thing."

"Well that's just teasing her now." Michael replied, grabbing the doll from him.

"No it's not." Lincoln insisted grabbing the doll from Michael. "It's _motivating_ her. Why the hell didn't we think of it?"

"Hey…" Michael said, turning his attention to Lincoln who was busy shaking the Elmo doll out in front of him. "You don't think she's going to do what LJ did. Do you?"

Lincoln paused briefly, then shook his head.

"Nah."

"What? What did I do?" LJ asked them.

"Nothing. Never mind." Michael replied, shaking his head.

"No seriously…" LJ continued to press. "What did I do?"

"You crawled backwards." Lincoln stated matter-of-factly.

LJ frowned.

"Well…that's normal. Right? I mean…I'm sure lots of babies do that."

Michael gave his nephew a sympathetic smile and patted him on the shoulder.

"Sure they do."

"Hey don't worry about LJ." Lincoln chimed it. "You know…Michael dropped your on your head the day before. You probably had a concussion or something."

"I did not!" Michael protested, settling back on his knees once again and placing his hands on his hips defiantly.

"Yes you did!"

"Did not!"

"Michael, he still has the scar on his forehead from the stitches!"

LJ furrowed his brow and rubbed the spot on his forehead where the tiny scar, though faded, was still visible.

"I did _not_ drop him. He was on my lap and he tipped over sideways and banged his forehead on the coffee table. The kid had balance issues! Not my fault!"

"He was a baby! All babies have balance issues! You'd think fourteen year old _genius_ would know that!" Lincoln practically hollered at him.

"OK guys. Never mind. It's fine." LJ tried to intervene.

"Yeah! Well even a 20 year old _idiot_ should know better than to leave a fourteen year old kid with no baby experience, home alone with an eight month old!" Michael snapped back.

"OK guys. Seriously!" LJ pleaded. "Lower your voices. You're gonna scare the…"

LJ stopped mid-sentence and jumped to his feet as Michael and Lincoln quit their bickering and turned their attention to the opposite end of the room.

"Where the hell did she go?" Lincoln asked dumfounded.

"Veronica?"

LJ quickly hustled across the room with Michael and Lincoln close behind. They had just rounded the corner into the kitchen, when they practically bumped into Amber who was holding Veronica in her arms… a huge smile plastered on her face.

"You boys lose something?" She giggled at them.

"Where did you…? LJ stammered.

"How did she…?" Michael wondered.

"I came in the back door and was making my way to living room when she just crawled right over to me!" Amber explained enthusiastically. "Isn't this exciting! She crawled right to me!"

"You've got to be kidding me." Lincoln groaned.

"We totally missed it." Michael moaned.

"Yeah…thanks to you!" Lincoln said, slapping Michael on the arm as he walked out of the room.

"Hey!" Michael hollered, chasing after him. "This was _not_ my fault!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"OK?" Amber said quizzically, handing Veronica to LJ. "What did I miss?"

LJ sighed, shaking his head.

"Don't ask!" he replied. Then, glancing down at his daughter he asked, "Do you think we can get her to do it again?"


	38. Chapter 38

Lincoln gave the screen door of his dilapidated bungalow a tug and cursed to himself when the damn door refused to budge. He readjusted the large rolls of drafting paper tucked under his arm and slid the bag of other supplies onto his wrist so he could use both hands. He yanked the door this time with both hands and not only did it open, but fell of it's hinges and Lincoln had to drop everything in his arms in order to prevent the damn thing from crashing down on top of him.

"God dammit!" He hollered, kicking the bag at his feet so that all the pencils, rulers and other assorted crap Michael had requested spilled out onto the worn and weathered porch.

"You alright?" Lincoln looked up and saw Michael standing in the entryway looking mildly concerned.

Lincoln chuckled, his hands still firmly grasping the rusting door.

"I think we need a new door."

Michael laughed.

"Ya think?"

"Apparently, I don't know my own strength." Lincoln joked, hurling the door over the railing and onto the sorry excuse for a front lawn.

"Oh yeah. You're a real He-Man." Michael replied, bending down to pick up the supplies scattered at Lincoln's feet. "Did you get everything?"

"I don't know." Lincoln whined, picking up the drafting paper and stepping into the house. "That place gave me a headache man. Who the hell knew there were so many different types of pencils and lead and…"

"I knew. That's why I wrote down for you exactly what I needed." Michael reminded him.

"I know, but what the hell? Why can't you just use the good old number two pencil like the rest of the world?"

"Because Lincoln…" Michael began in a seriously snooty tone that Lincoln hadn't been subject to in years but oddly enough he kind of missed. "…different leads, draw different lines. Different lines represent different things."

Michael began digging through the bag of supplies to pull out examples as Lincoln folded his arms across his chest and smiled.

"You see, the real hard lead draws a much softer line. That's good for a light layout and it's easy to erase. Now your softer lead…" Michael continued, tossing the previous lead back into the bag and pulling out another. "…your softer lead will draw a much thicker, darker line. That's for drawing things like walls."

Lincoln chuckled and rolled his eyes as he brushed past Michael on his way into the kitchen.

"Why did I even ask?" He wondered aloud. "And if it was so important, maybe _you_ should have gone to the store and found all this stuff."

He was joking, but no sooner had the words left his mouth, did Lincoln instantly regret it. The smile fell from Michael's face and he hung head shamefully, as he began dropping the supplies back into his bag.

"Hey Mikey. I'm just kidding." Lincoln insisted.

"I know. It's fine. Don't worry about it." Michael replied, not very convincingly as he made his way into the kitchen.

Lincoln sighed. It was a stupid thing to say and he could've kicked himself for not realizing that before he opened his mouth. Two months had passed since his release, but Michael was still very much reluctant to venture out in public. That fear of recognition and public resentment was still very much an issue for him and as hard as Lincoln, LJ and Amber tried, they couldn't seem to help him get over it.

Lincoln set the rolls of paper on the countertop in the kitchen, where Michael had already laid out the existing plans for the house, and made his way toward the refrigerator.

"I've been going over the existing plans and I've come up with a few ideas." Michael informed him as though nothing had happened.

"Yeah?" Lincoln replied half-heartedly. As badly as he wanted to share in Michael's enthusiasm for the project, the situation a few moments earlier only reinforced the fact that his little brother still had major problems.

"Yeah." Michael replied smiling. "There's plenty of room to expand off the back here and increase the living space…maybe add a few bedrooms."

"Uh huh." Lincoln mumbled, grabbing a beer from the otherwise empty refrigerator.

Michael paused, clearly sensing his brother's lack of interest in what he was saying, but he pressed on anyway.

"Well, I figured we will need a room for Veronica."

"You're right. We will." Lincoln replied robotically as he took a swig of beer.

Giving up, Michael tossed his pencil down onto the counter and turned to face his brother.

"What?"

"What?" Lincoln parroted back with a shrug.

"Did I piss you off or something?" Michael asked him.

Lincoln gave his brother a meek smile and set his beer down on the countertop.

"No Michael. You didn't piss me off."

"Then what is it?" Michael demanded to know. "Clearly something is bugging you."

Lincoln thought about this for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, he decided honestly was the best approach.

"I'm worried about you Michael. That's all. I'm not pissed…I'm just worried." He said calmly.

"Linc…" Michael moaned, turning his back to him.

"I'm serious Michael. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending like everything is fine when you and I both know…" He paused and took Michael by the arm and forced him to turn around. "…you're not."

"You know…I was having a good time. Why do you insist on ruining that!" Michael spat back angrily.

"Why is talking to me such a god damn challenge for you!" Lincoln fired back.

"Never mind." Michael groaned and began to walk away.

"I can't do this again Michael." Lincoln said.

Michael stopped and turned back to face his brother.

"Do what?" he asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"I ignored your problems once and it nearly destroyed you. I'm not going to make that mistake again." he informed him, shaking his head. "I won't do it."

_FLASHBACK 1991_

"Lincoln wake up."

Lincoln groaned in protest as he stretched out on the sofa and opened his eyes to find Lisa standing over him, looking annoyed.

"What do you want Lisa?" He snapped at her. "Can't you see I'm sleeping here?"

"No, I hadn't noticed." she shot back sarcastically.

"Well that's surprising." Lincoln growled at her as he rolled back over and closed his eyes. "Since you're the one who banished me from the bedroom."

"I'm serious Lincoln…get up!" Lisa barked, kicking him lightly in the back with her foot.

"What!" Lincoln exclaimed, bolting upright and punching the side of the couch with his fist. "What do you want?"

"I want you to go talk to your brother."

Lincoln frowned and looked over at the digital clock on the VCR. It was 11:45.

"Now? It's almost midnight."

Lisa let out a manic chuckle.

"Yes. It is. Lovely of you to notice. It _is_ almost midnight. And it i_s_ a school night. And yes Michael _is_ still awake."

"So give the kid a break." Lincoln replied, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. "He's got exams coming up."

"I don't care!" Lisa shot back angrily. "The kid hasn't slept in days. I just went in to check on him and he's working on the same damn thing he was working on when I checked on him two hours ago!"

"So."

"So that's not like him Lincoln. Something is not right. And I want you to find out what it is."

"He's fine. Just go to bed." Lincoln moaned, falling back onto the couch.

"He's not fine Lincoln. And if you weren't stoned so much maybe you'd notice."

"Oh…don't start."

"I will start!"

Lisa plopped herself down on a small portion of the couch that was taken up by Lincoln's enormous frame and tugged on his arm once again.

"Please Lincoln. I am so worried about him. Ever since that fight at school and the social worker started poking around he's been so…I don't know. Stressed?"

"We're all stressed." Lincoln replied, not opening his eyes.

"Yeah…I know." Lisa replied. "But it's more than that. He's been agitated, unfocussed…twitchy. I touched him tonight at dinner and it was like wanted to crawl right out of his skin."

"So don't touch him."

"And he gets this look in his eyes." Lisa continued, ignoring Lincoln's remark. "It's like he's not even there."

"Fine! Fine!" Lincoln exclaimed. "I will talk to him."

Lisa sighed with relief.

"Thank you."

"In the morning." Lincoln clarified.

Lisa opened her mouth to object, but Lincoln quickly cut her off.

"In the morning." He reiterated. "If I try and talk to him now, you know we'll only end up fighting and that will only wake up LJ and probably half the building."

He reached out and gently placed his hand on her arm.

"I'll talk to him in the morning. I promise. Just go to bed."

Lisa frowned and looked away, still concerned.

"Look, he's gonna fall asleep sooner or later and if it happens to be sitting at that damn desk than so be it. He'll be fine." He promised her.

Lisa pulled her arm free from Lincoln's grasp and pushed herself up off the couch.

"First thing in the morning." She said sternly, pointing at him with her finger. "I'm waking you up."

"Can't wait." Lincoln replied sarcastically, falling back onto the couch. "Do me a favor and hit the light on your way out."

Lincoln could hear Lisa muttering under her breath as the light went out and she made her way to their bedroom. He ignored her as he pulled the worn blanket from the couch up over his shoulder, buried his face into the cushion of the musty sofa, and quickly fell back to sleep.

It was almost two when Lincoln was awoken again. This time from a loud thumping noise resonating throughout the apartment. Quickly tossing the blanket off himself, Lincoln sat up and glanced toward the front door. He thought perhaps there was someone at the door, but as the noise continued, he realized it was coming from the other end of the apartment.

"What the…?" he mumbled to himself as he got up from the couch and made his way across the dark room. He was about halfway across the room when he tripped over one of LJ's toys on the floor, twisting his ankle. Cursing loudly, he hobbled the remaining few steps to the hallway and flicked on the light just as Lisa opened the bedroom door and stepped out.

"Lincoln?" she said, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light. "What is that noise?"

"How the hell should I know." He snapped at her as he limped down the hall. "It sounds like it's coming from Michael's room."

"He's still up?" Lisa replied.

"I swear to God." Lincoln fumed, shaking his head. "I'm gonna kill that kid."

"I told you to make him go to bed hours ago." Lisa reminded him as she leaned against the door frame.

"Shut the fuck up." Lincoln ordered as he limped past her.

"Well, maybe next time you'll listen to me."

"Michael! What the hell?" Lincoln hollered as he twisted the doorknob of Michael's door and swung it open. "It's two o'clock in the…"

Lincoln's jaw dropped and he froze when the door opened and he saw his brother inside. He had assumed Michael was bouncing a baseball off the wall…something he often did when he was bored. But when the door opened he was horrified to find Michael sitting on the floor, repeatedly banging his head against the wall.

"Oh my God! Michael!" Lincoln cried out and rushed into the room.

"What? What's wrong?" Lisa asked, rushing after him.

Lincoln fell onto his knees beside his brother and quickly grabbed Michael by the shoulders to stop him.

"Oh my god!" Lincoln sobbed. "What are doing Michael? What the hell are you doing?"

Michael slumped into his brother's arm and Lincoln gently brushed his shaking hand across the already large lump that had formed on the side of his brother's forehead. Michael's eyes were opened, but unfocused as he mumbled incoherently in Lincoln's arms.

"Michael!" Lisa screamed, rushing into the room and dropping to her knees beside Lincoln. "What did he do? What's happening!"

"Call 911!" Lincoln ordered her, pulling Michael close to his chest and rocking him gently.

"Shhh…buddy. It's OK. It's going to be OK." He tried to soothe his brother.

"Oh baby…"Lisa sobbed, reaching out for him. "What did you do?"

"Lisa! Go! Now!" Lincoln hollered at her.

Lisa jumped up off the floor and dashed out of the room. Lincoln could hear the sheer terror in her voice all the way from the living room as she pleaded with the 911 operator to send help.

"I'm sorry Michael." He sobbed as he continued to rock little brother's limp body in his arms. "I'm so sorry. Please be OK. Please. Please."

_PRESENT_

"You almost died that night Michael. I know you don't remember, but I do. It was one of the worst nights of my life and I won't let it happen again. I won't."

"I'm not a little kid anymore Linc." Michael replied calmly. "You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" Lincoln shot back quickly, reaching out and taking Michael by the arm.

Michael glanced down as Lincoln rubbed his thumb back and forth across Michael's forearm, which, although currently covered by the ever present long sleeve t-shirt Michael always wore, they both knew bore the scars of Michael's last attempt to take care of his own problems.

Michael pulled his arm away.

"I told you I won't do that again. I promised you that." Michael reminded him. "Why can't you just trust me?"

"It has nothing to do with trust Michael. After all we've been through, how can you possibly think I don't trust you?"

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

Lincoln brought his hands to his head in frustration as he tried to remain calm. He took a deep breath and dropped his hands back to his side before continuing.

"Listen Mike…I do trust you. But I also _know_ you. I know what happens when you bottle things up like you've been doing for the past few months. You've got to let it out."

Michael said nothing but began pacing the room nervously. It was an uncomfortable silence, but Lincoln said nothing. At least Michael wasn't hollering at him or worse, running from the room.

But when it became evident that this standoff with Michael could go on all day, Lincoln finally blurted out the one thing he knew was bothering them both.

"You were raped Michael."

Michael froze in place with his back to Lincoln and he balled his fists tightly by his side. Lincoln quickly moved to get in front of him.

"There, I said it." He exclaimed, grabbing Michael by both arms. "I should have said it a long time ago. But I was too damn afraid. I thought if we didn't talk about it, everything would be fine. I thought maybe if we didn't talk about it, we could both pretend it didn't happen. But it did. That was selfish of me Michael and I'm sorry."

Michael shook his head and but kept his eyes on the floor.

"Can you look at me Michael? Please!" Lincoln begged.

Michael took a deep breath and raised his head. His eyes were filling with unshed tears.

"You don't have to be sorry Linc." Michael insisted shaking his head. "It's not your fault."

"Whose fault is it Michael?" Lincoln countered, his own tears now streaming down his face. "Certainly not yours. You wouldn't have been in that damn place if it weren't for me."

"I made my own decisions Linc and I hurt a lot of people. I deserved to be in there." Michael insisted.

"No you didn't." Lincoln shot back, pulling Michael forward and wrapping his arms around him tightly. "You're a good person Michael. You've _always_ been."

For the first time in months, Michael didn't fight his brother. He reciprocated Lincoln's affection and hugged him back. It was turning point for the brothers and both men began sobbing.

"I just want things to go back to the way they were." Michael cried into his brother's shoulder. "Before Fox River…"

"I know." Lincoln replied, tightening his grip. "Believe me I know. But you can't focus on the past Michael. That's only going to drive you crazy."

"Too late!" Michael laughed, releasing his grip on Lincoln and using the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe the tears from his eyes.

Lincoln laughed as well, as he used his t-shirt wipe away the tears his own tears.

"No it's not." He said optimistically. "We're going to start over Michael. We just got to take it one day at a time."

To be Continued…


	39. Chapter 39

Lincoln wiped the sweat from his brow as he settled back on his knees, making sure to keep one foot firmly on the support board he and LJ had fastened to the roof earlier that morning. It was only 10 in the morning but already 80 degrees in the quiet Chicago suburb. He and LJ had been busy working on the roof for over and hour and while it was hard, sweltering work, Lincoln couldn't have been happier. This is what he had dreamed of. Working side by side with his son and Michael, who would be joining them after his morning appointment with Dr. Brighton.

"Tell me again why we're re-shingling the existing roof before we've even started on the foundation for the addition." LJ complained as he ascended the ladder and tossed his father a bottle of water, before carefully making his way to support board.

"Cuz." Lincoln replied, uncapping the water and taking a much-needed drink. "The existing roof is leaking. There's no use in starting on the addition if the existing house is unlivable because of mold." He reasoned.

"OK." LJ agreed, ripping up some shingle and tossing them over his shoulder. "But why couldn't we have just hired someone? I mean, we got the money."

"No way!" Lincoln scoffed. "I bought this house so we'd have something to work on together…you, me and Michael."

"Who conveniently isn't here." LJ pointed out. "You know, there is a reason why people call him the smart one."

"He'll be here." Lincoln assured him. "He has an appointment with Brighton. He said he'd come right after. Geez LJ. Quit you're complaining. This is fun!"

"Oh yeah…real fun." LJ moaned as he continued to work.

"It is." Lincoln insisted, ripping up some more shingles and tossing them over his shoulder. "Heck, I've been waiting for this, for what…six years now."

"Waiting for this?" LJ repeated, then laughed. "Yeah…like you knew six years ago we'd be up on this roof in the blazing heat, working on a roof."

"Not me." Lincoln replied, shaking his head. "You."

"Me?" LJ said quizzically.

"Yeah you!" Lincoln said with a smile. "Don't you remember? The night of my scheduled execution, we talked on the phone and you said you had a feeling that I wasn't going to die that night."

LJ stopped what he was doing and looked at his father as he too began to recall the incident.

"Remember?" Lincoln pressed. "You told me you had a dream…we were older and we were working on a house…pounding nails…together."

"I had totally forgotten." LJ replied.

"I didn't." Lincoln stated. "I never forgot. You knew. I don't know how. But you did."

"It was a coincidence." LJ insisted.

"No, I don't think so." Lincoln replied, then jokingly added, "Psychic boy!"

LJ laughed but said nothing, refusing to give in to his father's teasing. Lincoln smiled and turned his attention to the street below, where something, or someone had caught his attention.

"So tell me LJ, have you had any more prophetic dreams recently?"

"Regarding?"

"Oh, I don't know." Lincoln mused. "Maybe a dream about your old man meeting a hot brunette with a tight ass and legs to die for."

"What?" LJ laughed, looking up at his dad. But his dad was not looking at _him_. His eyes were street level where a young woman matching Lincoln's description was jogging down the street.

"Woah…" LJ blurted out.

"Yeah…I'll say." Lincoln responded.

The woman on the street below, stopped jogging and knelt down to retie the laces of her sneakers.

"Awe…man." Lincoln groaned happily as he stood up to get a better view.

"Alright dad. Back to work. Come on." LJ coaxed, forcing himself to turn his attention back to the roof. He was, after all, a happily engaged young man.

"In a minute. In a minute." Lincoln replied.

LJ turned back to the street and noticed the young woman glance up at them from where she knelt. She flashed them a friendly smile as she continued to adjust her laces.

"OK. Come on Dad. Really. Stop staring. She can see you."

"So what." Lincoln replied, smiling back and giving the woman a friendly nod.

"It's rude!" LJ insisted.

"It's not rude. She smiled at me for cryin' out loud." Lincoln replied. "I should go down and introduce myself."

"What? No, Dad don't. Please. You're going to embarrass yourself."

"How am I going to embarrass myself? I'm just going to go down and say hello." Lincoln said, as he began making his way across the support beam.

"Come on. We're supposed to be working here." LJ reminded him as Lincoln tried to maneuver himself around his son on his way to the ladder.

"You were the one moaning and wailing about the heat. So…let's take a break." Lincoln offered.

Out of the corner of his eye, LJ noticed the jogger was back on her feet. "Oh look." He teased his father. "You're too late, she leaving."

Lincoln quickly turned to the street in time to see the pretty young brunette wave to him as she began to jog away.

"Shit!" Lincoln muttered, as he took a step down off the support beam. But because his focus was on the tight backside of the retreating jogger and not on where he was going, he stepped right onto a pile of loose shingles LJ had discarded behind him and his foot immediately slipped out from underneath him. Lincoln hollered out to his son, but before LJ could even turn to see what was happening, Lincoln slid down the incline of the roof and disappeared over the edge.

"DAD!"

LJ could hear the thud as Lincoln crashed onto the grass below.

"Dad!" He hollered again as he began making his way as quickly and safely as possible toward the ladder.

"I'm OK!" Lincoln managed to reply, although not convincingly.

"Don't move!" LJ hollered to him. "I'm coming down! Just stay put."

It was a miracle LJ didn't fall himself as he raced down the ladder. But when he made it to the bottom and turned, he was surprised to find someone else had beaten him to his father's side.

It was the jogger his father had been ogling mere moments ago.

"Well…" Lincoln groaned, clutching his aching side, his face red with embarrassment. "This is embarrassing."

_Later that morning…._

"What?"

Michael slammed on the brakes; nearly rear ending the car in front of him. He heard the screeching of tires and an angry blast of a car horn as the vehicle behind him did the same. He had been so preoccupied listening to LJ's voice mail message that he hadn't noticed the traffic in front of him had come to halt and his inattentiveness had nearly caused a pile up.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he said apologetically even though no one could hear him.

Michael hit the button on his cell phone once again to replay LJ's message.

"_Hi Uncle Mike. It's LJ. Listen uh…Dad kinda fell off the roof…"_

"_Don't leave a message like that on his cell LJ…God!" _Lincoln's voice bellowed from the background.

"_Well what do you want me to say… It's the truth."_

"_I'm fine Michael!"_

"_I was gonna say that!" _LJ snapped at his father before continuing. "_Anyway …he's fine. I'm just taking him to the Emergency room. We'll see you back at the house. Don't worry!"_

Michael snapped the phone shut and tossed it onto the passenger seat as he anxiously looked for a side street to turn down and reverse his direction.

"Don't worry?" He repeated LJ's final message out loud to himself with disbelief. Was he kidding?

Michael pulled down a side street and signaled to turn into a drugstore parking lot so he could turn around when his cell phone began to ring. He quickly grabbed it.

"Hello!" He practically hollered into the receiver as he pulled into the lot and threw the car into park.

"Unc…Mike…? Michael could barely make out LJ's voice over all the static.

"LJ?"

"Yeah."

"Where are you? I can barely hear you." Michael asked him.

"In…arking lot at the …inic."

"Huh? Listen…I'm turning around. I'm on my way to the hospital." Michael informed him.

"No, don't…that. We're not at the…"

"What? LJ, I can't hear you!" Michael yelled at him.

"I said we're not at the hospital." LJ's voice cracked through the static. "Can you hear me now?"

"A little better." Michael replied, calming down a bit. "Where are you?"

"I'm walking around the damn parking lot at the urgent care clinic trying to get some damn cell reception." LJ informed him.

"Well stand still." Michael snapped at him. "I can hear you now. What happened?"

"I dunno." LJ moaned. "The ER was packed so they sent us here."

"No…I meant what happened to your dad. Is he OK?"

"…eez fine. I just wan…et you know…"

Michael rolled his eyes as the static started up again.

"LJ, I'm losing you again. Listen…I'm five minutes from the clinic. I'm on my way."

"NO! Unc…! I have to…ell…something…irst."

Michael groaned and snapped the phone shut once again. It was stupid to waste all this time trying to understand LJ on his cell when he could be at the clinic, talking to him in five minutes.

Back at the clinic, LJ cursed under his breath as he snapped the cell phone shut and headed back indoors. By the time he arrived back in the exam room, Lincoln was alone, laying shirtless on a gurney with his arm's crossed above his head.

"Did you get him?" Lincoln asked, dropping his arms to his side, wincing in pain as he did so.

"Yeah…I got him." LJ replied, taking a seat on a stool beside the bed.

"Oh good. I really can't handle that kind of drama right now." Lincoln groaned. Then, turning his head toward the door he added. "What the hell is she doing? Making the drugs! I'm in pain here."

"He's on his way." LJ mumbled ignoring his father's outburst and getting back to the matter at hand.

"What?" Lincoln roared, attempting to raise himself up on the bed and falling flat onto his back as a wave of excruciating pain shot through his side.

"Dad, take it easy!" LJ warned him. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"LJ, I told you tell Michael to go home!"

"I know! I tried!" LJ said defensively. "But we had a crappy cell connection and he could barely hear a word I was saying."

Lincoln sighed and brought his hands to his face in exasperation.

"Did you at least give him a heads up?" Lincoln asked calmly even though he already knew the answer.

"I tried. But he just hung up me!"

"Oh LJ…this isn't good. He is going to be totally blindsided by this"

"Look, maybe we're just making way too big a deal about this." LJ offered hopefully.

Lincoln laughed out loud at this.

"Yeah right! I don't think so. You know Michael. The drama King of Chicago."

"Well then maybe we could just ask for another doctor." LJ reasoned.

"LJ, this is an urgent care clinic. Not doctors on demand. Besides, how would we explain that to Sarah."

"Explain what to Sarah?"

LJ and Lincoln both turned their heads toward the door as Sarah Tancredi walked in. She smiled at them as she walked past LJ to Lincoln's side.

"I've got that pain medication for you Lincoln."

"Oh bless you." Lincoln replied.

"And once we're finished up here, we'll take you up for those X-rays."

"He's going to be OK. Right?" LJ asked hopefully.

Sarah smiled as she handed Lincoln some pills and a cup of water.

"He's going to be fine. I'm guessing he just cracked a couple of ribs. But the X-rays will tell us for sure."

"You know what…I really don't need the X-rays." Lincoln informed her as he gently eased himself up into a sitting position. "I've broken ribs before. Really. No big deal. Just go ahead and write me script for those wonderful little pills you just gave me and we'll be on our way."

Sarah furrowed her brow and turned her attention to LJ, who looked about as confused as she was, but nodded his head nonetheless and added…

"Sounds good to me."

"Well it doesn't sound good to me." Sarah replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Now will you two please tell me what the hell is going on here?"

"Nothing…nothing's going on. Wha…what makes you think something's going on?" LJ stammered nervously.

"Oh, I don't know." Sarah replied sarcastically. "Maybe the fact that you're standing there stammering like an idiot, while your father…"

She turned her attention back to Lincoln, who was now off the bed and gingerly reaching for his shirt, which was draped over a nearby chair.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing Burrows? Get your ass back on that bed."

"But…" Lincoln began to protest.

"Don't make me tell you twice!" She snapped at him.

"I really…" Lincoln continued.

"Now! On the bed!"

Lincoln quickly hopped back onto the bed, crying out in pain as his 180 pound frame landed with a heavy thud.

"Ow." He whined, pouting like a child.

"Well serves you right." Sarah scolded him. "Now, will you two please tell me why you're in such a hurry to get out of here?"

Lincoln sighed as he kicked his foot aimlessly against the steal frame of the bed.

"It's Michael." He finally replied, keeping his eyes on the floor.

Sarah shook her.

"What a about Michael?"

Lincoln raised his head and his eyes grew wide as he looked past Sarah and toward the doorway.

"He's behind you."

Sarah's jaw dropped, but she didn't turn around. Instead, she turned her attention to LJ.

"He's right behind you." LJ confirmed, grimacing uncomfortably as he wagged a finger in the direction of the door.

"Hello Sarah." The familiar voice greeted her.

TBC


	40. Chapter 40

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife and Lincoln couldn't help but feel sorry for his brother. Of course, Michael still loved Sarah. Lincoln knew it. LJ knew it. Heck, deep down, Sarah probably knew it as well. But Lincoln also knew that the timing and circumstance of this

impromptu reunion couldn't have been worse. Michael was totally blindsided and unprepared for this situation and it was clearly written all over his face.

It couldn't have gone unnoticed by Sarah. Of that, Lincoln was sure. But bless her heart, she did her best not to make an issue of it and mask her own uneasiness as she approached Michael.

"Michael." She walked over and greeted him with a friendly smile. "It's good to see you."

Lincoln held his breath as Sarah reached forward and gave Michael hug. Not that it was an inappropriate gesture after all that Sarah and Michael had been through together; and it wasn't as though the hug was overly intimate. But he could see Michael instantly tense up when she did so and Sarah, who obviously noticed as well, immediately let go.

"I'm sorry." Michael replied quietly, looking away.

"That's OK." Sarah insisted, shaking her head. "It's been a long time."

"Yeah." Michael agreed.

"Not exactly the reunion you two were planning on." Lincoln jumped in. "Sorry."

Sarah laughed and turned her attention back to Lincoln.

"Oh, don't lie Lincoln. We all know you threw yourself off that roof to get your brother and me back into the same room."

Michael managed a weak smiling, joking…

"You laugh. But I wouldn't put it past him."

"Well, you got yourself thrown into jail for me. It's the least I could do." Lincoln reasoned.

"Is he OK?" Michael asked, clearly wanting to change the subject. The question was directed to Sarah, but Michael didn't look at her as he made his way over to Lincoln's bedside. Once again, Sarah pretended not to notice.

"He'll be fine." She reassured him.

"Now that I've got my drugs…I'm more than fine." Lincoln replied, with a chuckle and a smile. He was feeling the effects of the drugs now and his eyes were beginning to glass over. "Doc…you're the best."

Michael and LJ rolled their eyes as Sarah just laughed it off.

"I'm going to go see how we're doing with those X-rays." she informed them as she made her way out of the room.

When she was gone, there was an awkward silence as LJ and Lincoln waited for Michael to say something. When he didn't, LJ finally spoke up.

"You OK Uncle Mike?"

Michael smiled.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He replied, still not making eye contact with anyone – something he often did when he was lying. "I just…I think I'm going to go get some air."

Michael turned to leave, but his brother reached out from his bed and grabbed his.

"Whoah! Whoah! Whoah! Hold up." Lincoln said groggily.

"What?" Michael asked, not hiding his annoyance.

"Come here." Lincoln replied, tugging on his arm.

"What Lincoln?" Michael repeated.

"Come here." Lincoln insisted, tugging more forcefully.

"Linc, I'm right here. What do you want?"

"Come closer." Lincoln ordered, reaching up to Michael's shoulder and forcing him to lean down so his head was next to Lincoln's. "What the hell is the matter with you?" He slurred quietly into his brother's ear.

"Nothing." Michael insisted, jerking himself from Lincoln's grasp and straightening up.

"What do mean nothing!" Lincoln barked, raising his voice enough that both Michael and LJ turned to the door to make sure no one else heard him. "Why the hell would you treat her like that man? That was cold."

LJ noticed his uncle visibly flinch at this accusation and immediately stepped in.

"Shut up Dad." Then turning to Michael he added. "It's fine Uncle Mike. Really. I understand."

"No." Michael said calmly and quietly, shaking his head. "Neither of you can possibly understand."

"What's to understand?" Lincoln groaned from his bed. "You've got a gorgeous, smart, amazing,

woman who wants to be with you. And…."

"You don't know that." Michael shot back quickly.

"Sure I do." Lincoln insisted. "And you would too if you just crawled out of that damn shell of yours for five minutes and talked to her."

"Dad." LJ interjected quietly. "You're doing it again. Lay off."

Lincoln sighed and brought his hands up to rub his bleary eyes.

"Sorry." He groaned.

"Forget about it." Michael replied. "I'm just…I'm gonna take off. OK?"

"Mike, I'm sorry. I mean it." Lincoln insisted. "I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine Linc." Michael said, shaking his head. Then turning to LJ he added, "You going to be OK? Can you handle him on your own?"

Michael knew how hard it was to handle Lincoln when he was high and incapacitated. He had years of experience at it. LJ fortunately…not so much.

LJ laughed.

"Yeah, we'll be fine."

Michael smiled and turned to exit the room. He had only taken a step toward the door, when Sarah walked back in- bumping right into him.

"Oh! I'm sorry." She laughed, reaching out and grabbing Michael's arms to brace herself.

"That's OK." Michael replied softly, letting his own hand linger on her arm a bit longer than he should have.

If Sarah noticed, she didn't let on.

"They'll be coming to get you for that X-ray in just a bit Lincoln." Then addressing Michael and LJ she added. "There's some coffee down the hall if you two are interested. The X-rays should only take a few minutes."

"Thanks, but uh…I actually have to get going." Michael explained while once again avoiding eye contact with Sarah. "LJ's going to wait here for his Dad."

"Oh…" Sarah replied, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Well …I hope I see you again soon." She added hopefully.

Michael smiled nervously, shoving his hands into his pocket, his eyes fixated on the worn tiles beneath his feet.

"Yeah…me too."

"I can't make any promises…" Lincoln mumbled groggily from his bed. "…but maybe next week I can convince LJ to take a dive off the roof. Who knows?"

Michael smiled. It was hard to be mad at Lincoln, when deep down he knew how badly his brother just wanted him to be happy.

Sarah smiled as well and Michael could feel her hand rub gently across his back before finding it's way to his shoulder where she gave him a gentle squeeze.

"Well…I'm hoping that won't be necessary." She said matter-of-factly. "What do you think Michael?"

"No, I'm pretty sure that won't be necessary." Michael replied, his face reddening with embarrassment. It amazed him how cool and casual Sarah was being, despite the awkwardness of the situation. Most woman, he figured, would have just given up-written him off as a lost cause. But not Sarah. Lincoln was right. She was amazing.

"OK then." Sarah replied, removing her hand from his shoulder and brushing it down his arm one more time. "When you're ready, you give me a call and we can do lunch or something."

"I will." Michael replied, managing a timid smile.

"FABULOUS!" Lincoln practically hollered from his bed. "No can we please get this show on the road. I want OUT OF HERE!"

"Goodbye Sarah." Michael chuckled as he turned to leave.

"Uh…I don't think so." Sarah's words stopped Michael in his tracks. "This isn't goodbye Michael Scofield. We agreed. Remember? I'll see you later."

This time, Michael looked her straight in the eyes…

"I'll see you later." He agreed.


	41. Chapter 41

_FLASHBACK 1992_

"_I want you home by dark. I mean it Michael. I'm not shittin' around._"

Lincoln's words echoed in Michael's head, his feet pounding the pavement as he picked up the pace and made his way down the remaining few city blocks toward their apartment.

He wasn't entirely sure if Lincoln's voice kept echoing in his head because it was now, in fact, well after dark and part of him was pretty sure he had subconsciously lost track of time on purpose just to piss his demanding older brother off; or if it had something to do with the seedy looking guy making his way toward Michael from the opposite direction. A guy, who Michael couldn't help but notice, seemed to be eying him like a hawk as he approached.

Michael prayed he was just being paranoid. Not wanting to initiate any unwanted interaction with the man, Michael lowered his head and pretended not to notice him as he casually stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and sped up a little more.

As the distance between them got smaller and smaller, Michael could feel his heart start racing as the panic started to set in. But as they got even closer and the man made no sudden or erratic movement in his direction, Michael allowed himself to relax a little. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

No such luck.

Just when it appeared Michael and the stranger would pass each other without incident, the man suddenly swung back around at the last minute and threw a strong, muscular arm around Michael's shoulder.

"Howdy." He greeted Michael with menacing grin and grip on his shoulder strong enough to make Michael cringe in pain.

Michael made a futile attempt to shove him off, but the man merely tightened his grip and pulled Michael in closer to his body as the two continued to walk.

"Whoah! Whoah! Easy Burrows. I just wanna talk."

"My name is not Burrows." Michael informed him. His voice was surprisingly calm despite how terrified he actually was. He looked around desperately, hoping to find someone to call out to for help but there was no one.

"What's that?" the man asked.

"I said that's not my name. You've got the wrong guy." Michael insisted.

"Nah." The man replied casually, shaking his head. "You're Linc's little brother. Don't lie to me kid. I'm not in the mood"

"I'm not lying."

"So you're saying your not Lincoln's brother. Is that what your telling me?"

"I'm telling you my name's not Burrows. It's Scofield."

"Look, I don't care if you're Mother Fuckin' Theresa. OK. Just tell me where your brother's at?"

"I don't know." Michael replied, which was the truth. He hadn't seen Lincoln in almost two days.

"Shit kid. I thought I made myself clear." The man said, digging his fingers deep into Michael's upper arm. "I'm not in the mood to be lied to."

"I don't know!" Michael insisted. "Maybe he's at the apartment."

Michael regretted the statement as soon as it left his mouth. He was practically inviting this jerk to accompany him home.

"Nope." The man replied. "I was just there."

Michael didn't know whether to be relieved that the guy wouldn't be accompanying him home or scared shitless that this jerk actually knew where he lived.

"Come on." The guy ordered as he directed Michael towards an alleyway about a block from his building. "You and I need to have a talk."

"I thought that's what we were doing?" Michael replied stupidly.

"Yes…but I think we need a little more privacy." The man informed him as he all but dragged Michael into the dark, narrow alley.

When they were about halfway down the alley and a good distance from the main road the man shoved Michael to wall and held him there with a strong arm across Michael's upper chest.

"You know…I always knew you brother wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but I thought I had made myself clear."

"What did he do?" Michael exclaimed.

"He screwed me over! That's what he did!" The man spat at him angrily. "And I warned him. I fuckin' warned him not to screw with me. I guess he just didn't get the message."

"What…What are you going to do." Michael stammered nervously.

The man let out a maniacal laugh, grabbed Michael by his sweatshirt, jerked him forward, and slammed him hard against the wall.

"I'm going to send him a new message and _you _are going to deliver it." The man informed him, reaching into his own jacket and pulling out a gun.

"Oh shit." Michael whimpered. "Please don't!"

Michael turned his head toward the street as the man pressed the gun under his chin. The man started rambling on again about how Lincoln had it coming…but Michael tried to block it out. He kept his eyes focused on the light from the main road. Finally, he saw a tall figure of a man pass by the alley. He couldn't be sure it was Lincoln. But then…it didn't really matter. It was someone.

"Lincoln!" He hollered at the top of his lungs.

Whoever it was had already passed, but his attacker didn't know that and quickly turned his attention toward the street. Michael seized the opportunity to make a run for it. He shoved the man as hard as he could and started to run. But he didn't get very far. The man was faster, not to mention stronger and he quickly caught up with Michael. He grabbed him by the upper arm, spun him around and slammed the butt end of pistol hard into Michael's face.

Michael hit the ground hard, seeing stars. The pain was excruciating and he brought his hands up to his head in anticipation of another blow but it never came. Instead, Michael saw the heel of someone's boot fly inches from his face and connect with the arm of Michael's attacker, sending the revolver flying across the alley where it hit the wall and fell to the ground, a few feet from where Michael lay.

"You mother fucker!"

Even though Michael still couldn't see clearly, he recognized Lincoln's voice. And as the scene began to come more into focus, he saw his brother on top of his attacker, punching him repeatedly in the face.

"I will fuckin' kill you!" Lincoln hollered again and Michael realized he meant it. He quickly crawled over to his brother and tried to grab at his fist before he could connect again.

"Lincoln! NO!"

"Get off me Mikey!"

"You're going to kill him!"

Lincoln stopped and for a moment, Michael thought he had gotten through to him. But apparently, Lincoln had only stopped to locate the man's gun-a much quicker and more efficient way to get the job done apparently.

Lincoln pushed himself up off the man and quickly ran over to retrieve the gun. He was making his way back when Michael jumped in front of him.

"Don't do this Lincoln. You _don't_ want to do this."

"Oh you have no idea how badly I do want to do this." Lincoln replied, pushing him aside. "Go home Michael."

"You're brother's right." The man groaned, as he attempted to get up.

Lincoln quickly shoved him back down and knelt down with one knee on the man's chest, pinning him to the ground.

"Are you still talking?" Lincoln snarled at him, cocking the gun and pointing it squarely at the man's forehead.

"Jesus Christ Burrows! Just relax!" the man begged. "I wasn't going to hurt him! I swear. I was just trying to scare him! I just wanted my fuckin' money back!"

"Well thanks for clearing that up for me!" Lincoln shot back sarcastically. "Tell me tough guy…are you fuckin' scared!"

He pressed the barrel of the gun directly into the man's forehead and Michael gasped.

"Are you scared!" Lincoln bellowed again, his hands shaking so hard Michael thought for sure the gun would fire accidentally.

"Lincoln…please…just think about what you're doing. Think about LJ!" Michael urged gently, trying to calm his brother.

The seconds seemed like hours as Lincoln, shaking with fury, held the gun firmly to the mans head. Finally, he let out one final exasperated cry before pushing himself off the man and rising to his feet. Reaching into his own pocket, he pulled out a wad of cash and tossed it into the man's face

"Here is your fucking money! If you ever…EVER come near my family again, I swear to God I'll kill you." And then, to emphasize his point, he kicked the man across the face, rendering him unconscious.

Still holding the gun, Lincoln quickly shoved it into his pocket, before rushing to brother and grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Shit Michael! Are you alright? What the hell were you thinking? I told you not to be out here this late at night."

Michael jerked himself free from Lincoln's grasp and rushed over to check on the injured man.

"He's still breathing." Michael sighed with relief.

"Yeah, well…He's damn lucky!" Lincoln shot back. "Come on! Let's go."

"We can't just leave him here Linc. What if the cops find him? They're going to want to know who did this to him."

"He's a lowlife bookie Michael. He's not going to say anything to the cops. Now move your ass."

He grabbed Michael by the arm and yanked him up.

"So now you're gambling? Nice Linc. Real nice." Michael spat at him then hurried off toward the street before Lincoln could respond.

"It's not what you think Mikey." Lincoln replied, walking quickly to catch up with his brother. "I only did it the one time. We needed the money."

"Whatever." Michael replied, rounding the corner onto the main street.

"I did it for you Michael. You and LJ." Lincoln insisted. "Everything I do is for you two."

"Oh that's just great." Michael reached the front steps to their apartment building and turned back to face his brother. "I'll be sure to tell LJ that when you wind up dead or in jail! Or better yet…maybe you'll be the one looking LJ in the eyes and telling him that when _I'm_ dead."

Michael turned back toward the steps, but Lincoln quickly reached out and grabbed him.

"That's not going to happen Michael. This will never happen again. I promise you that."

"Get rid of that gun." Michael said calmly, ignoring Lincoln's declaration. "You're not bringing it into the apartment with me and LJ."

Lincoln nodded.

"I will. I'll do it right now."

"And wipe it clean first. God only knows who he's shot with that thing and the last thing we need is for the cops to find it with your prints all over it."

Lincoln nodded once again as Michael turned his back to him, ascended the staircase, and disappeared into the building.

Lincoln sighed as he sank down onto the steps and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He couldn't believe Michael. Most kids his age would be curled in a ball, crying in a puddle of their own piss after having gone through what he just had. But not Michael. Not only was he composed enough to give Lincoln shit for his role in what had just gone down, but he was calm enough and smart enough to instruct Lincoln on the most appropriate method of disposing of the gun that had nearly killed him.

For the first time Lincoln was starting to see Michael in a totally different light. He was no longer that little boy that needed protection. He was growing up and at 16 he undoubtedly was smarter and wiser than Lincoln could ever hope to be. Most people…most parents, would probably be proud. But it scared Lincoln to death. Michael was still just a kid after all. Yet because of Lincoln and his stupid decisions, Michael was forced to be an adult well before any kid should have to. Lincoln had managed to destroy the one thing he had tried so hard and so long to protect… Michael's innocence.

_Present_

"Michael's birthdays coming up." Lincoln said as he sat in Brighton's office and picked at the non-existent lint on the arm of the couch.

"I know." Brighton replied. "Two weeks right?"

Lincoln smiled.

"Yep. In two weeks he'll be thirty six years old." Lincoln sighed and shook his head "Shit…When the hell did that happen?"

Brighton chuckled and leaned forward in his chair.

"What's the matter Linc? Starting to feel old?"

"Oh, I have no problem getting old." Lincoln replied adamantly. "It's Michael growing old that scares the hell out of me."

"Well I don't think it should scare you Lincoln. I'd hardly call thirty six old."

Lincoln gave the Doctor a dubious frown, then turned his attention back to the lint.

"Oh come on Linc! You're forty one!"

"I'll be forty two in three months."

"Exactly! If Michael's old…what does that make you?"

Lincoln shook his head again, got up and began pacing nervously in front of the couch.

"You don't understand."

"Well explain it to me then." Brighton challenged him.

"I got an awesome kid and gorgeous granddaughter." Lincoln said. "I may be old…but at least I got something to show for it. What the hell does Michael have?"

Durst smiled and settled back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

"He's only thirty six Lincoln. There's still plenty of time left for…"

"Well would you mind telling him that? Dammit! The kid sulks around the house all day long doing nothin' or fuckin' around with his God damn drawings."

"His drawings? You mean his plans for the house. He's a structurally engineer Lincoln. That's what he loves. Heck…you bought him that damn house."

"Well if I wouldn't have if I knew he was going to waste his entire life away on it!" Lincoln hollered at him.

"He's not wasting his life by doing what he loves Lincoln."

"I know! I know! It's just…" Lincoln sighed once again and looked up at Brighton sadly. "…this isn't the way I pictured Mikey's life when I was raising him."

"I know." Brighton conceded.

"He was supposed to have a better life."

"Better than what?"

"Better than mine!"

"Why?"

"Because…because that's the way it was supposed to be! Michael was better than me. He's _always_ been better than me and he was going to have a better life. I thought…"

"You thought what?" Brighton asked, getting up from his desk and walking over to Lincoln.

"I thought that's what I was doing." Lincoln practically whispered. "Back when this whole mess started… back when I borrowed the ninety grand that started this whole nightmare. I thought that was what I was doing."

"You made a mistake Lincoln." Brighton said, placing a hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "That's all."

"I ruined his life." Lincoln finally admitted.

"His life's not over yet Lincoln. Don't give up on him yet."

TBC


	42. Chapter 42

_Flashback 1991_

"Hello Michael." Dr. Brighton smiled and closed the file he was working, as fifteen-year-old Michael Scofield entered his office for his usual Thursday afternoon appointment. "How are we doing today?"

Michael replied by dropping his overstuffed backpack onto the floor and slumping down onto the couch with a grumble and a frown.

"That good. Huh?" Brighton asked him as he crossed the room and took a seat across from Michael in one of the armchairs. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Why do always ask me that?" Michael snapped at him.

"Ask you what?"

"If I want to talk about it. It's not like I have choice."

Brighton smiled. It was going to be one of those days.

"Come on now Michael. We've been meeting for what…three years now? Have I ever forced you to talk about anything you didn't want to?"

Michael thought about this for a moment.

"No." He finally conceded. The quickly added… "But you're sneaky. You now how to spew all the psycho-babble bullshit to get me to spill my guts. I know how it works."

"Fair enough." Brighton said smiling. "But in the end…the choice is always yours."

Michael grumbled some more and folded his arms across his chest defiantly.

"So…" Brighton began.

"So what?" Michael spat back with annoyance.

"Do you want to talk about it or not? Because if you don't…I've got plenty of work to do. You can sit there and sulk for the next forty-five minutes if you want to. No skin off my back."

"You get paid either way. Right?" Michael shot back tersely.

Brighton frowned, got up from his chair and returned to his desk. He wasn't even going to dignify that comment with a reply. Michael was upset and taking his anger out on the wrong person. He understood that, but certainly wasn't going to feed into it. He had learned a long time ago that the best way to deal with Michael when he got into these moods was to leave him be. He'd eventually come around. In this case…it took about five minutes.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked him quietly as he slid into the seat in front of Brighton's desk.

"I told you Michael…" Brighton replied without looking up from the notes he was working on. "I'm working."

"Don't you want to talk to me anymore?" Michael asked timidly.

Brighton sighed, placed his pen down and looked up at Michael who gave him that wide-eyed, imploring looking that made it virtually impossible for anyone to stay angry with him for very long. Brighton actually felt sorry for Lincoln. He could only imagine what it must be like to try and discipline a child like Michael. The kid had a gift and he used it well.

"I always want to talk to you Michael. I enjoy talking to you and helping you when I can. What I don't want is to be disrespected."

"I wasn't trying to disrespect you." Michael insisted.

"But you did."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." And he did. Michael didn't like to hurt people. In fact, he was one of the most empathetic teenagers Brighton had ever met. His apology was genuine. Of that, Brighton was sure.

"Is everything OK at home?" Brighton added, deciding to try again to get to the bottom of Michael's mood.

"Depends on who you ask." Michael replied.

"I'm asking you." Brighton countered. "Did something happen between you and your brother?"

"He's driving me crazy."

"Why? What did he do?"

"I don't want to talk about it. It's embarrassing." Michael insisted, hanging his head and picking at his fingers nervously.

"Michael, have I ever judged you on things your brother has done? You have no reason to be embarrassed." Brighton assured him.

"No…it's not that. I'm not embarrassed of Lincoln." Michael replied, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. "It's just…he…."

"Calm down. Take your time."

Michael let out an exasperated sigh and leaned forward, resting his elbows on Brighton's desk he buried his face in his hands.

"Lincoln walked in on me and girl the other day in our apartment." He finally blurted out quickly.

Brighton's jaw dropped and he slumped back in his chair - Dumbfounded. That certainly wasn't what he had expected.

"Oh…" was all he could manage at first.

Michael, red with embarrassment, lowered his hands to take a look at Brighton who luckily, at this point, had managed to close his gaping mouth.

"What were you doing?" Brighton wondered aloud.

Michael frowned and gave the Brighton a look - Duh? Brighton chuckled.

"Sorry. Dumb question."

Michael smirked and nodded.

"So how did Lincoln react?"

"How do you think?" Michael replied.

Now this was test. Michael was so predictable some times.

"Well…" Brighton began, folding his arms across his chest. "Knowing Lincoln, I would say…he was probably pretty darn excited."

Michael frowned and rolled his eyes. Nothing gave this boy more pleasure then to be able to tell Brighton he was wrong. But that wasn't going to happen today. He had passed the test.

"I'm impressed." Michael said glumly. "You know Lincoln better than I thought."

"How could I not? You've painted me a pretty descriptive portrait of your brother over the years."

"I guess." Michael agreed.

"But just to backtrack for one minute…" Brighton couldn't help himself. He had to know. "…when you say he walked in on the two of you. Were you actually…you know…?"

"We were just making out!" Michael replied adamantly.

"Oh. Thank God." Brighton blurted out in response.

"Now you see…" Michael shot forward in his chair. "…_that_ is exactly how Lincoln should have reacted. He _should_ have been upset. But instead… he's putting condoms in the cookie jar for me!"

Brighton had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"Condoms in the cookie jar?"

"He calls it our 'communal stash'." Michael informed him, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Well, he may want to reconsider the location of this "communal stash" before LJ's old enough to reach the counter." Brighton chuckled.

"It's not funny!" Michael whined.

"I'm sorry Michael." Brighton said, and took a moment to compose himself. "I guess I just don't understand why you are so upset with Lincoln. I'll admit…his approach to parenting may not be the most orthodox, but I really think he's just trying to be responsible here."

Michael gave him an incredulous look.

"I'm totally serious Michael. Try to put yourself in Lincoln's shoes. I mean…he's twenty-one years old. And he probably knows better than anyone that if a kid wants to have sex he's going to. But he also knows first hand what the consequences of that can be. Do you think he wanted to be a dad at his age?"

"He loves LJ." Michael insisted.

"Of course he does. But being a single parent at such a young age is hard Michael. He doesn't want that to happen to you."

"It's not going to happen to me. I don't even really like the girl that much. But that's not even the point."

"What _is_ the point?"

"The point is that he's all up in my business now and not in a parental, authoritative way…just a really obnoxious way."

"OK…" Brighton said shaking his head. "You're going to have to explain."

"He's always giving me that goofy grin of his and wanting to know where I'm going; who I'm going with; and is she pretty. And if I tell him I'm just going to the library-which is the truth-he doesn't believe me. That's why I'm upset. He's driving me crazy!"

"He's excited for you Michael."

"Why. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that dating is a normal step in teenage development. And every time you take one of those steps Michael, Lincoln gets excited because to him it's a sign that he's doing something right. That you are developing normally."

"Jeez…you make me sound like a lab rat or something." Michael groaned.

"Sorry…that wasn't my intent I assure you. But do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I guess." Michael replied.

"Look…I understand what you are saying. I can see how Lincoln's behavior could be a little annoying, maybe make you a little uncomfortable or even embarrass you a little."

He paused a moment to see how Michael would respond. When he didn't interrupt, Brighton took that as a sign he was on the right track and continued.

"But I don't think it's intentional."

Michael gave him a skeptical look.

"OK." Brighton conceded. "Maybe there is a small part of Lincoln in inside there that just wants to be your big brother-not you parent - and be able to rib you a little bit like any older sibling would. Is that so…horrible?

Michael shrugged.

"I don't think it is. But honestly…I think it's more excitement and genuine happiness for you than anything else Michael. Your brother loves you. He just wants you to be happy.

_PRESENT_

"Whoo hoo! Uncle Mike. Lookin' good!" LJ teased when Michael emerged from his room dressed in his neatly pressed Khakis and a button down shirt. "And is that cologne your wearing?"

"Shit." Michael moaned. "It's too much. Isn't it? I should shower and change into jeans or something."

Michael quickly turned and headed back for the stairs.

"No! No! Uncle Mike, I'm just kidding." LJ insisted with a chuckle. "You look fine."

"You sure?" Michael asked him.

"Totally" LJ insisted. "It's very…I don't know. YOU."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just trust me."

"Fine. Listen…you didn't tell your dad where I was going. Did you?"

LJ sighed and shook his head.

"No…I told you I wouldn't. But I don't see what the big deal is?"

"It's not a big deal." Michael agreed. "Which is exactly why I don't want Lincoln to know. Not yet anyway."

"But it would make him so happy –knowing that you and Sarah…"

"It's just lunch LJ."

"Maybe today it's just lunch." LJ replied with a mischievous grin.

"Don't you start too now." Michael said, pointing a finger accusingly at him. "I mean it LJ."

"Oh fine." LJ whined. "I'll keep my mouth shut. But you owe me!"

"Yeah. Yeah." Michael replied, grabbing his car keys off the counter and heading toward the front door.

"What do I tell him if he asks where you are?" LJ hollered after him.

"I don't know." Michael hollered back as he made his way out the door. "Make something up!"

TBC…


	43. Chapter 43

Sarah folded her arms across her chest and tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible as she sat on the bench just inside the doors of the popular Italian eatery she had chosen to meet Michael at for lunch that day. In hindsight, she realized she probably should have chosen someplace a little less crowded. She was already receiving curious stares from patrons entering the restaurant, and she imagined it would only get worse when Michael joined her. But the restaurant was in walking distance of the clinic so it was an easy location to meet Michael on her lunch break.

After having exhausted all the ways she could think of to look busy and disinterested in the curious patron that passed, she finally decided it would be better to wait for Michael outside. She had just gotten up from the bench and taken a few steps toward the door when Michael finally arrived.

"Hey." He greeted her sounding slightly out of breath. "I'm sorry I'm late. Were you waiting long?"

"No, not at all." She smiled at him.

"I couldn't find parking." He explained as he nervously glanced around the restaurant.

Just as Sarah had expected, the unwanted attention of the patrons only increased when Michael entered the restaurant. She pretended not to notice and just prayed Michael wouldn't be too bothered by it. She was well aware, after discussions with Lincoln in the hospital the week prior, that Michael still had issues about the public's perception of him. She knew he didn't venture out much and was grateful and slightly flattered that he was willing to put those issues behind him to join her today.

"Shall we get at table?"

"Yeah. Let's." Michael replied, placing his hand gently on the small of her back as they made their way to the hostess.

"Just the two of you?" The hostess asked. If she recognized them, she hid it well, remaining professional and greeting them with a cordial smile.

"Yes. Please." Michael replied.

"And would you like a booth or table?"

"BOOTH!" Michael and Sarah shot back in unison.

The waitress jumped slightly at receiving such an animated response, then chuckled slightly. Michael and Sarah couldn't help but laugh as well. Clearly the idea of sitting at an open table in the middle of restaurant didn't appeal to either of them. But they hadn't meant to startle the poor girl.

"Sorry." Sarah offered her apology to the hostess between giggles.

"It's alright." The waitress replied, still laughing herself as she picked up some menus. "I understand. Follow me. I have the perfect spot for the two of you."

And the perfect spot it was. The waitress led them to a separate, dimly lit bar area at the rear of the restaurant. It was virtually empty except for a few business men seated at the bar who were so engrossed in their own conversation they didn't even notice Sarah and Michael as they passed them on their way to a booth in the back corner.

"Oh, this is perfect." Sarah commented as she and Michael took their seats. "Thank you so much."

"No problem at all." The hostess replied, setting their menus down in front of them. "You're waitress will be Regina. I'll send her back in a minute. Enjoy your meals."

As the hostess retreated, Sarah turned her attention back to Michael who still looked a bit on edge as he fidgeted nervously in his seat. He dug into the pocket of his pants to remove his car keys and as went to place them on the table Sarah noticed his hand shaking noticeably. She reached out and gently covered his hand with her own.

"Hey…" she said quietly. "You OK?"

Michael smiled.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because we can go. If you're uncomfortable…"

"No. No." Michael insisted, shaking his head. "Really. I want to be here. I've been looking forward to this."

He turned his hand over and grasped her hand.

"You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this. To seeing you."

"It won't always be like this you know." Sarah informed him.

"Like what?"

Sarah shrugged and looked around.

"Like _this_. The two of us…hiding in a dark booth in the back of restaurant…praying to God no one notices us…_recognizes_ us. It's going to get better."

"I know." Michael sighed. "I just…I wish you didn't have to deal with all this. You know? I regret ever getting you involved and ruining your life like I did."

"Hey!" Sarah replied, grasping his hand more tightly. "Don't you worry about me. OK? I don't regret any of it."

Michael gave her a skeptical look.

"OK…" Sarah chuckled. "Maybe there are few things I regret. But Michael, I'm very happy with my life. And I'm even happier that you are a part of it again. I _don't_ regret meeting you Michael. And I don't regret…"

She paused a moment, lowering her head and then looked back up at him.

"…falling for you."

Michael smiled at her and blushed slightly as he gently rubbed her hand with his thumb.

"I'm sorry." Sarah replied, now blushing herself. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"No…don't be sorry. You didn't." Michael insisted. "I just ah…" he paused, struggling to find the right words. There was so much he wanted to say to her…things he had dreamt of saying to her for five years. But now that he finally could…he couldn't formulate his thoughts. His mind began racing and the panic started to take over. He shifted uncomfortably in the booth as he struggled to regain some sort of composure.

"Michael…" Sarah said softly.

Michael let out a manic chuckle and shook his head.

"Wow! This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I'm sorry."

Sarah shook her head.

"It's fine."

"No. It's really not." Michael insisted. "You have been so good to me and so patient…"

"Would you stop being so hard on yourself." Sarah chuckled as she reached across the table and took his hand once again. "Listen…You've been through a lot. And I don't expect things to be perfect right away. So just…give yourself a break. OK?"

Michael laughed.

"OK."

"Good." Sarah replied, nodding her head triumphantly as Michael's cell phone began to ring. "Is that yours or mine?" She asked, glancing down at the handbag lying at her feet.

"That would be mine." Michael replied digging into his pocket to retrieve the phone.

He glanced down at the screen, which read "_Incoming call: Lincoln", _rolled his eyes and immediately stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" Sarah asked him as the phone continued to ring.

"Nope." Michael replied.

"What if it's important?"

"It's Lincoln." Michael stated as if that adequately answered the question of relative importance.

"Well why don't you just answer it? It could be an emergency." Sarah reasoned, her mind instantly flashing back to Lincoln's accident the prior week.

"It's not an emergency! He just wants to know where the hell I am! He needs to mind his own damn business!" Michael snapped back angrily.

Sarah straightened up in her seat, shocked by Michael's terse response.

Michael sighed and quickly apologized.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just…Lincoln has really been getting on my nerves lately."

"I can see that." Sarah replied. "I'm guessing you didn't tell him where you were going?"

Michael shook his head.

"Can I ask why?"

"It's a long story." Michael groaned.

Sarah shrugged.

"I got time."

TBC


	44. Chapter 44

_Flashback 2002_

"Hello." Michael hollered as he entered the foyer of the small two bedroom ranch his nephew and Lisa called home.

"In the kitchen." Lisa replied.

Michael tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa and made his way into the kitchen. Lisa was busy at the counter preparing a desert for dinner.

"Hey cutie." She greeted him, wiping her hands on her jeans before reaching out for her hug.

"I've missed you. How's work going?"

Michael shrugged.

"It's going."

Lisa stared at Michael for a moment waiting for him to offer more information. When he didn't she continued

"I'm making you favorite desert, seven layer bars. You're staying for dinner. Right?"

Michael smiled at her.

"I am now."

"Good." Lisa replied, picking up the baking dish and putting it into the oven. She then turned back to Michael.

"So really…" She said, leaning back against the counter and tilting her head as she addressed him. "How are you doing?"

Michael shrugged.

"I don't know. OK I guess."

"Yeah?"

Michael nodded and attempted to look convincing.

"Yeah."

"Oh Michael, you never were a good liar."

Michael sighed.

"What do you want me to say Lisa?"

"How about the truth. I worry about you Michael. With everything that's be going on with Lincoln."

"Well don't." Michael stated adamantly. "You've got enough on your plate with LJ. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

"Have you talked to him?"

Michael nodded and took a seat on the stool.

"Yeah…I saw him yesterday."

"Yeah? And how'd that go?" she asked him, sliding onto the stool beside him.

Michael rested his elbow on the table and brought his hand to his mouth. As he shook his head, Lisa could see the tears welling up in the young man's eyes.

"Oh baby." She said, reaching out to gently stroke his hair.

"I don't know how this happened Lisa." He admitted. "I mean…I know Lincoln's done some questionable things in the past…but murder?"

"What did he say about it?" She asked him, scooting forward on the stool. "Did he admit it to you?

Michael scoffed and hopped down off his stool.

"Of course not! He said it was all a big mistake and he never shot anyone."

"Do you believe him?"

"I don't know what to believe!" Michael shot back quickly. "He swore to me that he was innocent. He swore!"

Lisa shook her head.

"So maybe he is. Maybe he's telling the truth and this is all just a big mistake."

"Right." Michael replied sarcastically. "Because Lincoln's never sworn to me before and been lying. Like the time he swore to me that our mother was fine and she was going to come home. Or the time he swore social services wouldn't split us up. Or the time he swore that nothing bad would happen to me if I went to that damn foster home on Pershing avenue!"

Lisa hopped down off her stool and quickly rushed over to Michael's side.

"Hey!" She said, grabbing onto his arm, forcing him to turn around and look at her. "That was different Michael. You know that! You were just a child. He was trying to protect you."

"You don't understand." Michael replied, shaking his head.

"I know your brother isn't a killer Michael. I _know_ that. _You_ know that."

"I'm not so sure." He admitted.

He paused a moment, turning his back to her as he debated whether or not to tell her what he was thinking. Finally he turned back.

"I haven't been completely honest with you Lisa. Or the police."

"What are you talking about Michael?"

"Lincoln called me the night of the murder."

"You talked to him?"

"No." Michael said, digging into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. "No, I didn't talk to him. But he left me a message."

"What did he say?" Lisa asked him, her tone somber, the look on her face suggesting she wasn't sure she really wanted to know.

Michael dialed the voice mailbox on his cell and hit the speaker button. Instantly, Lincolns voice filled the room.

"_Michael…It's Linc. I need your help bro. I'm into somethin' real bad and I can't get out of it. I need you to straighten me out. My head…it's all messed up and…Anyway, it's real important bro. You gotta call me. You gotta call me NOW."_

Lisa's eyes were wide as Michael hit the off button his cell and dropped it onto the counter.

"Oh my God." Lisa finally managed to gasp.

"Yeah." Michael replied.

Lisa stared at the phone for a moment; then quickly reached out and snatched it off the counter.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked, clearly surprised.

"What do you think I 'm doing?" Lisa replied. "I'm deleting the message."

"But…"

"But nothing Michael. If the cops get a hold of this…"

"That's evidence Lisa. We could get in a lot of trouble for this. What if they check his cell phone records. They'll know he called me that night."

"Exactly. Which is precisely why we have to get rid of it."

Michael looked at her skeptically.

"What if…" Michael's voice cracked. He could barely get the words out. "What if he's guilty Lisa? What if that was the reason he called me that night. Because he knew…he knew he was about to do something horrible and he wanted me to stop him."

Lisa set the phone down on the counter, wrapped her arms around Michael and hugged him. She could feel him shaking within her arms.

"I ignored him. Just like I always do. I ignored him and look what happened." Michael sobbed.

Lisa gave Michael a final squeeze, then grasped him by the arms and looked him straight in the eyes.

"We don't know what happened that night Michael. We may never know. But your brother said he's innocent and we've got to believe that. OK. We've _got_ to. For LJ."

Michael nodded, then wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"But we've got to get rid of this." Lisa continued, picking up the phone once again.

"For LJ." Michael repeated.

"For LJ." Lisa replied and hit the delete button.

TBC


	45. Chapter 45

"I know I said I wanted to see you boys more often. But I got to tell you Linc, this really isn't what I had in mind."

Lincoln raised his head and looked up a William Durst, who was standing in the open door of holding cell frowning down at him. He let out an audible groan and lowered his head shamefully.

All his life Lincoln had wanted a father. It was something he had dreamt of. Having a father to love him unconditionally, offer unsolicited advice and even scold him when he was wrong. In the five plus years Lincoln had known him, William Durst had become that man. And to see him now, standing there with such disappointment in his eyes was almost more than Lincoln could bear.

"Can you give us a minute? Durst asked the officer standing by the open cell door.

"If that's what you want." The officer shrugged and pulled the cell door shit. "But I gotta warn you…he's been a real pill since he got here."

"Yes. I'm sure he has." Durst replied as he glared down at Lincoln. "But we'll be fine."

The officer shrugged.

"Holler if you need anything."

"I'll do that."

As the officer retreated back down the hallway, Durst turned his attention back to Lincoln. Stuffing his hands into his pocket, he sighed and shook his head.

"Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln."

"Look…" Lincoln began, resting his head against the cold concrete wall as he looked up at Durst. "If your here to give me a lecture you can just save it. OK? Nothing you can say could possible make me feel any worse than I already do."

"Well that may be true Lincoln." Durst conceded. "But it will certainly make me a feel better to at least try."

Lincoln closed his eyes and slammed his head back against the wall. It really wasn't a smart thing to do…especially since the room was still spinning from all the alcohol he had consumed that evening. But he didn't care. He wanted to suffer more. He deserved it.

"Oh man…I really fucked up."

"Yes, you did." Durst conceded without hesitation.

"How's Michael? Is he OK?" Lincoln asked hopefully.

"He'll be fine." Durst replied. "No thanks to you."

Lincoln cursed under his breath as he hung his head again shamefully and buried his face in his hands.

"Just so you know…those are your sons words. Not mine." Durst informed him.

"I didn't mean to do it." Lincoln insisted.

"Maybe not. But you did."

"I know." Lincoln mumbled.

"Assault is a serious offense Lincoln."

"I know."

"Especially when your on probation."

"I know! I know!" Lincoln hollered at him, raising his head and pounding his fist onto the floor angrily.

Durst walked over to where Lincoln was seated, placed a hand on the cold cinderblock wall, and gingerly lowered himself down. At his age, this was a difficult and painful task-his knees not quite working like they used to, but he finally managed to plunk himself onto the cold hard floor with an audible groan and settle himself back against the wall next to Lincoln.

"Oh, I shouldn't have done that." Durst said, chuckling "I may never get back up!"

Lincoln peered at the old man out of the corner of his eye and offered a him a meager smile for his effort.

"What happened Linc?" Durst asked, his voice turning serious once again.

Lincoln shook his head, hours of unshed tears, now streaming down his face.

"I don't know." He admitted in a hoarse whisper. "I just go so angry with him."

Durst frowned and draped his arm over Lincoln's shoulder.

"Oh Lincoln." He sighed, pulling the young man closer and squeezing his arm tightly. "I say this with love…"

Lincoln wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of hand and looked into the older man's eyes.

"…You need to learn to use your words."


	46. Chapter 46

"Thanks for the lift." Lincoln said, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in?" Durst asked him. "You boys may need a mediator."

The tone of his voice implied that he was kidding…trying to crack a smile from Lincoln after a long, exhausting night. But Lincoln new, there was probably part of William Durst that was totally serious and after what Lincoln had done, he could hardly blame him for worrying.

"No…we won't." Lincoln assured him.

Durst couldn't help but give Lincoln a skeptical look.

"I promise you William…It's never going to happen again."

Durst smiled and patted Lincoln on the shoulder.

"I know." He assured him. And he did. There was no doubt in his mind that Lincoln deeply regretted what had happened and he was also quite certain that Michael would bounce back from the incident a lot sooner than Lincoln would.

"Try to get some rest. I'll call you boys later today to see how you're doing."

Lincoln slid out of the seat and shut the car door. He watched as William pulled out of the driveway and waved as the car disappeared down the road.

As he made his way up the walk, Lincoln wondered what he would say to his family. There was no justification for what he had done. He knew that and was fully prepared to accept whatever admonishment and punishment his they chose to give him.

The house was quiet when he entered and he was surprised to find Michael asleep on the sofa. A surge of both relief and guilt washed over him as he stared at Michael, who didn't even flinch as Lincoln inadvertently allowed the screen door to slam shut behind him. Michael's right eye, though closed, was bruised and swollen and on his forehead there was a bandage, most likely covering the stitches it probably took to close gash he received when his head slammed into the coffee table.

"He's been waiting for you to get back."

Lincoln jumped. He hadn't realizes anyone had entered the room and was even more surprised when he looked up and saw Sarah standing in the archway that lead to the kitchen.

"Sarah, you scared the shit out of me." Lincoln admitted.

"Sorry." She replied quietly, offering him a friendly smile.

She looked different…More casual then he had ever seen her look with her long red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and dressed in jeans and a v-neck t-shirt. But despite her casualness she was still stunningly beautiful and Lincoln could see why his brother had fallen so hard for her.

"Where is…" Lincoln began, but immediately stopped when Sarah brought her finger to her lips and motioned toward Michael. Lincoln nodded and quickly made his way across the room.

"Where is everyone?" He asked again, whispering as he and Sarah made their way back into the kitchen.

"LJ and Amber took the baby to the park." Sarah explained quietly as she made her way to the counter and poured two cups of coffee from a fresh pot. "They needed to get out for a little while so I told them I'd stay."

"Is he OK?" Lincoln asked her, glancing back at Michael.

"He'll be fine." Sarah replied, handing him a cup of coffee. "We just need to keep and eye on him for the next few hours due to the concussion."

Lincoln closed his eyes and sighed. How could he have been so stupid?

"Com one." Sarah said, taking him by the arm. "Let's go out on the deck and talk. I don't want to wake him."

Lincoln nodded and followed Sarah outside. Once out of the deck, Sarah sat down, placed her cup of coffee on the deck beside her and stretched her long legs out in front of her.

"Oh my gosh. What a night." She groaned, stretching her arms over her head before allowing them to fall back into her lap with a sigh.

"Were you at the hospital all night with him?" Lincoln asked.

Sarah nodded.

"He was really upset. LJ too. I didn't want to leave them. Ya know?"

"Yeah." Lincoln replied shamefully. "Thank you for staying with them."

"You don't have to thank me." Sarah insisted, picking up her coffee and taking a sip.

"Yes I do." Lincoln shot back quickly. "Sarah, what I did last night…"

"Was not completely your fault." She finished for him.

"You weren't there." Lincoln reminded her.

"No, I wasn't." Sarah agreed. "But Michael was. He told me what happened. He was really worried about you."

"_He_ was worried about _me_?"

Sarah nodded.

"When he came to in the hospital and you weren't there…he knew something bad had happened. LJ and I tried to cover…told him you fine. But…he didn't buy it. He completely freaked out."

Lincoln said nothing, tracing his thumb aimlessly around the rim of his coffee cup as Sarah continued.

"Once he calmed down, he told me he had been in the hospital more times than he cared to remember in his lifetime. But every time he woke in a hospital room and he was afraid…_you_ were right there."

Lincoln smiled despite the fact that there was nothing remotely pleasant about those memories.

"He said the only times you weren't there when he woke up, was when you were in prison. _So_ when he woke up last night, in the hospital, and you weren't there…"

Sarah shrugged her shoulders.

"…he just knew."

Lincoln got up from his chair and walked to the far side of the deck; keeping his back to Sarah so she wouldn't see the tears starting to stream down his face.

"He really loves you Lincoln."

"Yeah…well…I'm starting to think that might be his problem. He'd be better off without me."

"You don't mean that Lincoln." Sarah replied, getting up from her chair.

"Don't I?" Lincoln snapped at her as he whipped around to face her. "I punched him Sarah!"

"Yes you did." She conceded. "_After_ he shoved you. You hit him, and he fell. It was an accident."

"That no excuse." Lincoln insisted, distancing himself from her once again as he walked to the opposite side of the deck.

"Honestly Lincoln! Do you think you're the only guy in the world who's ever gotten into a fistfight with his brother? It happens."

"Yeah well…it shouldn't happen to Michael." Lincoln shot back.

"Why?"

"What do you mean? Why?"

"Why shouldn't it happen to Michael?" Sarah repeated.

"Because!"

"Because why?"

"Dammit Sarah!"

"Just answer the question Lincoln!" Sarah was practically screaming at him. "Why?"

"Because…because he's been through enough! OK? _I've_ put him through enough!"

"And what about what he's put you through Lincoln?"

"What are you talking about?" Lincoln groaned.

"He gave up everything you worked so hard to give him growing up."

"Yeah…to save me."

"That doesn't make it any less painful." Sarah pointed out. "Michael knows that."

"There's still time for him to get it back." Lincoln replied softly. "That's all I want now."

"And he knows that too." Sarah insisted, walking over to Lincoln and placing her hand on his shoulder. "But Lincoln…_that's_ the problem. You are way to invested in Michael's happiness and it scares him."

Lincoln gave her a dumbfounded look.

"What are you talking about?"

"He knows if it doesn't work out for him, you'll only be disappointed again. That's why he didn't tell you about seeing me again." She admitted.

Lincoln looked up when Sarah said this, but wasn't surprised by her declaration. He had suspected his brother had been hiding something from him for weeks now. He had noticed a change in Michael and it was a positive one. But at the same time, he had been distancing himself from Lincoln.

He's happy Lincoln but…" Sarah shook her head. "…I don't know. I think he's still afraid the rug is going to get pulled out from underneath him again. And he knows if and when that happens, it will hurt you just as much as it does him. He doesn't want that Lincoln. He wants you to be happy."

"That's…just stupid." Lincoln replied for lack of a better term.

"Yeah, well you do both have a rather dysfunctional concept of love. But…it is what it is."

Lincoln chuckled at this.

"What?" Sarah asked him, chuckling herself now. "It's the truth."

"Yeah. I know." Lincoln agreed. "It's just…"

"You aren't the first person to have told us that."

Lincoln and Sarah both spun around quickly. They had been so caught up in their conversation that they hadn't even noticed Michael open the sliding glass door and join them on the deck.

Michael smiled sheepishly at them as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

"Veronica used to tell us that all the time." He explained to Sarah.

"Yes she did." Lincoln confirmed with a smile. "We may be dysfunctional, but we sure know how to surround ourselves with intelligent women."

Lincoln then crossed the deck and embraced his little brother. Michael reciprocated by wrapping his arms tightly around Lincoln and burying his face in his brother's shoulder. They both held onto each other for several moments as Sarah looked on silently. Finally, Lincoln spoke.

"I am so sorry Mikey."

"I know." Michael assured him.

Lincoln released his grip on Michael and took a step back to look at him.

"Are you alright?"

He reached up with his hand to touch Michael's swollen cheek, but Michael leaned back and brushed his hand away.

"I'm fine Linc. Really." He insisted. "Are you alright? I mean…you aren't going to get into trouble for this. Are you?"

"Well, I am on probation." Lincoln reminded him. But when Michael grimaced and turned away Lincoln quickly added, "But William's going to handle it. He thinks everything will be fine."

"It _will_ be fine." Sarah agreed, quickly going to Michael's side. "Listen, I don't want you to worry about this right now. OK? You should be resting."

"I just woke up."

"I know." Sarah replied, snaking one arm around his waste and placing the other hand on his chest. "But I want you to stay on the couch and rest. You still have a concussion."

Michael groaned.

"Hey! Listen to the doc." Lincoln ordered him.

"Alright! Alright!" Michael chuckled, taking Sarah's hand and heading back toward the door with Lincoln trailing behind them.

"Hey listen. I could leave to alone if you want." Lincoln joked as they entered the kitchen. "I could run some errands. Maybe leave a little "do not disturb" sign on the front door. What do you think?"

"You're a real asshole. You know that?" Michael replied jokingly.

"I know." Lincoln replied, sliding the door shut. "But you love me anyway."


End file.
